Homer “The Iliad” (1 of 2)
Western literature begins with The Iliad and, until recently, it was assumed that no educated person in the west could have skipped it. Set during a few days in the tenth year of the Greek assault on the Trojan city of Ilion, the epic perhaps refers to an actual war, but remembered dimly and filtered through a storyline of gods interacting with men, and men being undone by pride, anger, arrogance, and lust. Kierkegaard wrote that the Iliad was the perfect epic because it combined a great poet with a great subject matter. The Greeks saw it as their foundational text: all of Greek literature afterward is, to some extent, a gloss on Homer. Robin Lane Fox: “(The epics) were admired from their author’s own era… to the end of antiquity without interruption.” Even today, it stands up as a nearly flawless story abounding in heroics, psychological drama, and ironic commentary on the lives of men.
The epic in fact begins with an irony: we’re told it’s the story of the devastation caused by Achilles’ uncontrolled anger, and yet it’s clear from the start that it’s the arrogance of his commander, Agamemnon, that is causing all the trouble. Agamemnon, as head of the Greek fleet besieging Ilion, has taken for his concubine the daughter of the local priest of Apollo in nearby Thebes, and this arrogance has moved the god to afflict the Greeks with plague. Finally agreeing to return the girl, Agamemnon decides instead to take Achilles’ own slave girl, a slap in the face of his greatest warrior in front the entire Greek army. In a sense, the Iliad begins with a question we can all relate to: What to do when your boss is a jerk?
In the larger sense, Achilles faces the dilemma of how the individual subsumes their needs to the collective good. It’s hard enough for any of us to live in society; but Achilles really is the greatest Greek warrior and the son of a goddess, Thetis. Even as a demigod, he has to stifle his will in order to live embedded within an order of his inferiors. Agamemnon is an arrogant old fool, and nobody would fault Achilles if he killed him. This is a warrior culture in which the “chain of command” is not set in stone, but negotiated at every moment. Agamemnon is the ruler because he asserts his authority and argues down anyone who challenges him. He is getting older and irrational. But, in order to win glory, Achilles will eventually have to fall in line under this old fool.
The Iliad is the tale of how Achilles finally overcomes his own anger and follows his destiny; for most of the story, though, he sits out the fighting and lets the Greeks get slaughtered. The gods, meanwhile, have their own favorites and fight as angrily among themselves as the men do. Reading the Iliad, it finally became clear to me that, in Homer, the Greek gods are present in the world. They are often invisible, communicating through dreams, portents, and speaking directly to chosen men. But this is not akin to grace; these gods are not radically separated from the mundane world; they’re primarily immanent. They’re more powerful than us, so the soldiers often make burnt offerings and perform rituals to please the gods. They walk among us and often toy with us; Agamemnon will rush back to battle because of a lying dream Zeus sends him. But the gods offer nothing like a correct form of existence or religious precepts. The idea of men making a covenant with these gods is ridiculous. And there is nothing like a transcendent divine realm in the sense we find in the religions of Abraham.
The story of Achilles and Agamemnon is driven by their quarrel over a woman; and the Trojan War was also fought over a woman: Helen. The wife of the Mycenaean king Menelaus, Helen was seduced by the young Paris (again with divine help) and taken to Troy, triggering the Greek kings to band together and send a fleet of 1,186 ships to attack the city. In one of the great scenes in the epic, the old men of Troy, when first seeing this woman who will launch one of the great wars of history against their city, agree that she was worth it. Helen’s is, quite literally, the face that launched a thousand ships.
Amazingly, we will discover in the Odyssey that, after the war, Helen and Menelaus patched things up! Note the similar theme: in the Iliad, the greatest war of prehistory is launched by a cuckolded husband and an unfaithful wife; in the Odyssey, Ulysses goes through hell in order to return home and prevent his wife Penelope from being seduced by her many suitors. In the Babylonian Gilgamesh, the wild man is civilized by a harlot. Western literature, instead, begins with unrestrained female sexuality as a force of destruction. It’s complicated though. As much as we moderns tend to see the Iliad as a patriarchal story in which men are warriors and women are property (and it is that too); it has to be remembered that one woman’s sexual sovereignty is powerful enough to annihilate Troy and nearly wreck the Greek fleet. In other words, the flipside of ‘patriarchy’ is the nearly supernatural power it assigns to the same female sexuality that it exists in order to channel into marriage. Imagine Michelle Obama shacks up with the son of Nicolas Sarkozy tomorrow and the United States, as a result, goes to war with France! The strangeness of this is unquestioned in the epic. This is also the story of booty call that sent thousands of men rushing to their deaths. I’m guessing high school teachers don’t discuss that.
The other reason these men rush to their deaths, and a subject teachers love to discuss, is kleos: the glory that survives after one’s death. It is known, from the start that Achilles will not return from this war. Thetis tells him in the beginning, apparently repeating something he’s heard often, that his life will be very short and filled with bitter combat. (Thanks, Mom!) Death is nothing to look forward to; it’s a place of darkness and forgetting, almost akin to suspended animation. These men jockey and clash with each other because all they really have to accomplish is being remembered as heroes after death. Their lives are short and intense, but highly competitive. Achilles finds being insulted unbearable, but also struggles with giving meaning to his brief life. Another question posed by the epic is how mortal men go about having a meaningful life.
Camille Paglia compares the clashes of The Iliad to consumer capitalism in which products vie for our attention. It’s a bit of an odd image, but indeed, the Iliad does portray battle as a sort of stock exchange in which dynamic individual personalities rise and fall in reference to each other, to make the final sale of lasting fame. The idea that war is not the destruction, but the perfection of the individual starts here. Maybe the cliché about becoming part of “something greater than the self” is true of combat; but for Achilles, battle transfigures the soldier into a Persona greater than the self. We know that Achilles will be remembered as a great hero. But, in the end, he will become a hero by losing everything and sacrificing himself. He is the first self-sacrificing hero, of a great many, in Western literature. Christ will be the utmost.
His greatest loss, however, and his reason for finally returning to battle and to his death, is of his “beloved companion”, Patroclus, due to his own anger and shortsightedness. Those high school classes likely take a “don’t ask, don’t tell” approach to Achilles’s devotion to Patroclus, a theme that Greek listeners would have understood. These are men who live together and fight together; they satisfy their lusts with captive women, but they are emotionally devoted to one another. It’s probably a mistake to too-easily equate the relationship with homosexuality, which overlooks the fact that the story is driven by a fight over a concubine. Our conflation of love and sex (and that to sexual identity) likely confuses us; Achilles and Patroclus probably did not ‘get it on’. Nevertheless, Achilles is merely outraged over the loss of the girl Briseis; but is utterly heartbroken over the loss of Patroclus. And our squeamishness about the subject might also cause us to overlook the fact that the love between the two men is purer and more elevating than any heterosexual love in the story, the majority of which lead to ruin. In the Iliad, men can be trusted in a way women cannot. I’m not sure that we still have the right words for this relationship. In the Odyssey, Homer will write the story of a great love between a man and a woman; but here the story is of the great love between men.
There is much more to the Iliad than sexual desire and male bonding, however, and Homer is cinematic in the way he blends the history of a decade-long war, epic battles, and the emotional lives and loves of individuals. There is enough, in fact, that the Iliad will have to occupy two posts!
Endnotes:
1. Again, I’m going with the Penguin Classics edition. However, the translation by Richmond Lattimore is really outstanding. Also, believe it or not, the Marvel Classics Illustrated graphic novel of The Iliad is quite good. At all costs, avoid the recent film adaptation Troy, which removes all of the gods and shrinks Achilles to the stature of Brad Pitt!
2. I started this project over at Grad Student Madness, not too long ago. So, this post is an expanded and rewritten version of one there.
3. In the second part, I hope to get to the poetic style, the great scenes, and why this story still resonates, at least with me. I’ll also expand on the summary a bit. One issue with doing compressed posts is that nearly every line here is a wee bit inaccurate, so please be patient.
4. I’d like to return to the Iliad next week. On Friday or Saturday, I plan to jump forward quite a bit to post about Bach’s Cantata 82, also known as Ich habe genug.
Great heaving Heavens, I love love the Iliad! I never read anything like a direct translation but the story, Paris and Helen, Priam and Hector, Achilles and Cassandra. So many powerful ideas and narratives. Classic!
Oh and Rufus, regarding Achilles and Patroclus the word you are looking for is “bromance”.Report
“bromance,” North you’re killing me! That’s a new word/symbol in these parts of Ohio…why do I get the feeling the coastal regions are familiar with it?Report
Well I’m in Minnesota Bob so it’s in the midwest too.Report
MTV is killing this country. Killing it. Despite my intense love of the First Amendment and basic principles of constitutional law, I do believe I would enthusiastically support a bill of attainder prohibiting any member of the Jenner/Kardashian axis, or any person who has ever been in contact with a member of that axis, from presenting themselves to an audience of more than 10 people. And even that may be too many.Report
We should pull a Fritz Platten and send MTV to Iran in a diplomatically-sealed container.
What could possibly go wrong?Report
Maybe you’ll touch on this in part two, but in my mind one of the greatest aspects of the Iliad is Homer’s treatment of the Trojans. The poem creates a world, and a war, in which there aren’t simply good guys and bad guys, but rather a cast of fully human characters in both camps, both heartbreakingly sympathetic (think of Hector with his wife and son in book 6) and decidedly not so (Agamemnon, as Rufus mentions).
Then again, the concept of Greek vs. barbarian didn’t quite exist at the time of the poem’s composition, so maybe Homer shouldn’t get quite as much credit as I want to give him. Still, creating Trojan adversaries worthy of respect and glory gives the Iliad much of its emotional power: it makes Achilles desecration of Hector’s corpse especially abhorrent, and his reconciliation with Priam especially touching.Report
Agreed Paul. The interaction between King Priam and Achilles always was one that moved me, especially when contrasted with Achilles’ own arrogant war leader who compared unfavorably in my mind to the couragous and loving Priam. The treatment of Hectors’ son Astyanax especially stands out in my memory as terrible particularily when you consider how very fond his heroic Father was of him.Report
Yes, the ransom of Hector is absolutely devastating, and it wouldn’t work if Priam’s nobility (and Hector’s worthiness, and Achilles’ wrathful loyalty) hadn’t been so firmly established.
But at the same time, the poetic nitty-gritty of the scene pushes it even further into greatness: Homer uses the epithet “man-slaying” (androphonos), which has throughout the poem been applied exclusively to Hector, to describe Achilles’ hands at the moment Priam kisses them in supplication. It does so much to underscore the terrible gravity of the scene.
And remember, the poem ends shortly thereafter — not with Achilles’ heel or the Trojan horse or something else we might expect, but with Hector’s funeral. Talk about Homer giving the Trojans their due!Report
Thank you Paul! That’s a great point.
I would like, in the second post, to talk about some of my favorite scenes in the story and, absolutely, one would be the scene in which Hector is leaving Andromache for the last time. It’s absolutely devastating, and what’s so great about it is that here’s the greatest warrior of the enemy side so totally humanized and we sense the impending tragedy that he’s going to die for something unworthy of him.
I also wanted to talk about the scene with Priam and Achilles which, when I first read it three years ago, brought tears to my eyes. The image of him kissing the hands that killed his son is just devastating.
What I kept thinking, when I read it this time, is that this is, after all, a story for the Greeks. And yet we comprehend the humanity of the enemy and the tragedy of their loss. I can’t imagine any of the old war movies I love having a scene in which we see a Nazi soldier’s wife begging him not to leave her and their son to go fight in a hopeless war. I think it might be seen as “relativism” if done today, but those scenes, for me, are why this is such a powerful story.Report
Thanks, Rufus. I’m very much looking forward to the second post — I don’t get many chances to geek out and put my classical education to use!
Do you plan to discuss any aspects of the Iliad’s composition: the Homeric question, the oral tradition, epithets and formulas, etc.? It’s fascinating stuff…Report
Hmm… a wee bit. It’s probably good to note that I don’t see this as scholarship as much as … well, exploration. I’m endlessly fascinated, but still learning!
I guess this brings up a question I’ve been trying to work through. I’m a product of the American school system. Which is to say that I studied some Spanish in High School; took Spanish and French in university; do graduate work in French; and am about halfway through learning Latin. I used the word pisher to describe myself earlier.
So, my own classical education is “a work in progress” to put it kindly. I’ve learned the Greek alphabet and that’s about it, and can read Latin without taking too terribly long to do so.
But I’ve had a few people now tell me (some outside of here) that there’s little to no point in reading the Greek classics if you’re not reading them in Greek. Since I’ve read most of the classic French works in English and later in French, I suspect this argument is mostly crap. Actually, it’s the same with the few Latin texts I’ve worked through- my understanding was definitely better when I read them in Latin, but I certainly got quite a lot out of them in English.
But, since you’re likely able to geek out more fully than I can, and you must have a stronger classical education, I ask: isn’t it possible for pishers to get quite a lot out of Homer?
This question is open to everyone, incidentally.Report
See my reply to Buce below — I had to restrain myself from writing it in ALL CAPS.Report
Don’t you think Homer must give the Trojans their nobility? As you say, the Greek tradition demands the warriors be heroic. If the enemy were simply a band of barbarian kidnappers there would be no glory in face to face combat; it would be a police action against lower class criminals. That would be a task more fitting for mercenaries.Report
That’s a good point. I’m clearly comparing apples and oranges by relating the Iliad to stuff like The Thin Red Line. I do wonder why so few modern war stories make the enemies heroic. Certainly, though, Homer’s in a much different oral tradition.Report
That’s very true — and I also want to emphasize again that the Trojans aren’t barbarians at all in the context of the poem (they have the same language, gods, code of honor, etc.).
But still I think Homer goes farther than he needs to in humanizing the Trojans. If Hector is a great and fearsome warrior, he’s a worthy adversary to Achilles whether or not we also know that he’s a loving husband and father. The fact that we get to see those intimate moments really is special.
But amid all the emphasize on honor and glory, it’s pretty fun to see the mighty heroes deal so mockingly with those beneath them in class (Thersites in Book 2) or prowess (Cebriones in Book 16).Report
Very true. Why would a misshapen man like Therisites even be among the troops? Is he comic relief like a dwarf court jester? Is that why he can insult the leaders so often with impunity until Odysseus finally hits him?Report
“But the gods offer nothing like a correct form of existence or religious precepts. The idea of men making a covenant with these gods is ridiculous. And there is nothing like a transcendent divine realm in the sense we find in the religions of Abraham.”
Easy there. There’s plenty of evidence that modern Christians’ view of their own god bears striking similarity to the ancient Greeks’ views of their own pantheon. Prosperity Gospel? The ongoing debates over the nature and existence of hell? The claim in just about every forum, from sports to politics to war, that god is on own side? Sounds to me like people have changed a lot less in 5000+ years than we might have hoped.Report
I don’t know about that Francis. I’m no lover of the brutish cruelty of modern fundamentalism but I don’t think the parallels you’re drawing hold.
The Greek gods were portrayed as strongly present and mercurial beings that, despite their awesome power, were very much like humans. They suffered jealousies and petty grievances; Zeus would cheat on his wife and would go use almost Homer Simpsonesque crackpot schemes to conceal his infidelity. Even the noble Athena or Apollo wasn’t above pouring out her share of vindictiveness on impertinent mortals. These were super powered humans and they had no hesitation to upend the natural laws of the world in a fit of pique if it so suited them and the world that they ruled was a chaotic and wild place.
I’ve read, and think it sensible, that the advent of monotheism and especially the concepts of an aloof, remote single deity allowed for humanity to view the world as a more predictable and approachable place. Once every spasm of nature was not automatically assigned to Hera having PMS or Zeus trying to hide away his latest fling this left room for the concept of the world being ordered by a single generally consistent set of laws and led the way to the kind of thinking that brought about science and the enlightenment. We’ve come a long way from Greek Polytheism though I agree that the baser elements of religion, or perhaps human, nature remain.Report
Well, I’d agree that people certainly do fall back into the old patterns!
I guess I’m making these comparisons because, if I don’t, Bob Cheeks will! Actually, it’s also because I’m also reading the Old Testament right now, so it’s hard not to draw comparisons between the burnt offerings and hectacombs and then the development of the first covenant.
Now, I certainly would imagine that your average culture Christian with the “Angel on board” bumper sticker isn’t thinking of immanence and transcendence and worrying about these questions, but they’re on my mind.Report
Rufus, dude, you’re good.
The analysis you provide reaches to the level of the noetic differentiation, that process describing the movement of compact consciousness (the mythic) to the more differentiated, inclusive of the “inquiring consciousness” and aware of the reflective distance and its relationship to the transcendent pole of the tension of the inquiry.
Homer’s genius is sensed in his need to create a new symbolism of the human and divine relationship.
Homer is abandoning the cosmological myth.
He is searching , questing for the truth of things.
Is this not the ground of philosophy?
And, in his mytho-speculation, that sublime combination of myth-making and noesis, Homer has contrived the gods not as “self-contained entities” but rather “manifestations” of the order of existence in which man is integral.
Voegelin gives as his example the blind seer, the man who is not capable of seeing in the immanent-world reality but is intimately aware of existence in the non-existent reality.
Re: your language achievements, congratulations. Voegelin, a gentleman whose IQ was off the charts would not read a philosopher, poet, writer unless he read him in his native language. I can’t conceive of such intelligence. I read Voegelin in search of the order of the cosmos, and he has not failed me.Report
Yeah, Voegelin is pretty impressive. I considered discussing political gnosticism in my dissertation, having read his book on the topic, and my profs basically told me not to touch it with a ten foot pole- not out of any “academic liberal bias”, but because the topic is so totally complicated that it would take years to complete even a brief gloss on it. Meanwhile, Voegelin just tossed that book off and moved on to other topics with no difficulty whatsoever.
“Homer’s genius is sensed in his need to create a new symbolism of the human and divine relationship.”
I’ve read some books on Homer by Greek scholars that say basically the same thing; that Homer creates a distinct order of divinities who behave much like men and this poses many of the questions that troubled his later readers, leading to Socrates- who quotes Homer constantly.
But I’ve always wondered how Greek historians know so much about the earlier proto-religions, given that Homer’s epics are transcribed not long after the development of the alphabet. They seem to agree though. An interesting work on the topic (although not really about Homer) is Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion by Jane Ellen Harrison. Admittedly, I haven’t read that in about ten years. It might be time to take it off the shelf though.Report
You might enjoy Stefan Rossbach’s classic study of the Cold War in the context of Western Spirituality, The Gnostic Wars.
It’s cleverly reviewed here:
http://www.voegelinview.com/gnostic-wars-review.html
As you progress through the classics I have no doubt I’ll not be able to surpress the gnostic element.
Homer was gifted with any number of pneumatic illuminations.Report
Rufus, can the Lattimore. “[U]ntil recently, it was assumed that no educated person in the west could have skipped” reading Homer in the original Greek. If he read a translation, it was one that he had written himself.Report
William Bradford wrote a post that kinda talked about this sort of thing here:
http://www.ordinary-gentlemen.com/2009/11/how-robots-replaced-amateur-artists/
Personally, I find it delightful that we are moving ever closer to everybody being able to read everything without having to spend two years in an Irish/Jewish/German/Italian/French ghetto to learn the nuances of the language to read obscure texts.
We need more babelfish.Report
I do think you gain a lot by learning the language and reading in it. But it’s not as if reading Diderot or Proust was exactly a worthless exercise before I could read them in French. I’m hoping to get Greek under my belt in the next few years, but waiting until then to read Homer and Plato seems a bit silly.Report
This is doubly false.
First of all, the idea that a knowledge of Greek was some sort of sine qua non of the educated man is really applicable to a fairly narrow slice of post-renaissance, pre–industrial revolution Europe (especially Protestant countries, where the idea was to read New Testament Greek). St. Augustine, Dante, Shakespeare, and countless others got by just fine without knowing Greek.
When I studied classics as an undergrad, I heard about professors and grad students who refused to read the Iliad (or whatever else) in translation, with the result that they hadn’t and never would read the whole thing — just whatever chunks they happened to have studied. This is totally crippling to a full understanding of the work itself, let alone any larger cultural context in which it stands, and surely can’t make up a well-rounded education either.
But here’s the point: plot, characters, certain kinds of style and form, and the larger themes we’re exploring here are all perfectly accessible via translation. Knowing the language can only shed more light on those aspects, and of course it opens up whole new avenues into the words and nuances and meter (I could go on about Greek meter all day!) of the poetry itself, but to deny reading any version of Homer just because you can’t read the original* just ensures complete ignorance.
(And really, if someone’s truly serious about that, shouldn’t he collate manuscripts and fragments himself instead of relying on the critical editions of long-dead philologists?)Report
Right and I’m certainly aiming at that in the future. So far, I can read old and modern French, Spanish, and English, and am just about able to read Latin without taking forever to do so. Greek is next on the list and I’ve at least got the alphabet down. But there’s nothing to be gotten from a good translation? I certainly feel my education is minute compared to an educated man of just a century ago. But, I’m not dead yet and I’m studying all the time. So I’d rather not wait to read Homer, even if I’m not ready to read him in Greek.Report
Hy’ where’s the beef? I’m willing to acknowledge you as educated. But Prime Minister Gladstone would not have.Report
Sure, but I haven’t claimed to be educated. I think the terms I used for myself have been, “pisher”, “poseur”, and “not an expert” so far. No doubt the reason I’m still enrolling in classes at my age is to keep plugging the holes of an American education. I’d imagine I’ll be “educated” by the time I’m 50.Report
First thoughts:
In one of the great scenes in the epic, the old men of Troy, when first seeing this woman who will launch one of the great wars of history against their city, agree that she was worth it.
Am I being too cynical to wonder what the alternative the old men had? Was saying “eh, she’s a solid 7” really an option? (disclaimer: Women are human beings just like the rest of us and ought not be ranked on a 10-scale)
It seems to me that after a war in which thousands (tens of thousands?) died, you would have to say “oh, yeah, we not only had the right to do what we did but, more importantly, the treasure we got was more than worth the blood and treasure we spilled to get it.”
Of course, that may be a little post-. (Aside, in my yute, I saw a version of Antigone that had Creon give a speech about how he couldn’t tell which brother was which and so he just shrugged and said that “THIS ONE IS ETEOCLES” and “THIS ONE IS POLYNICES” and ran with that… and, for the life of me, I was certain that that was in the original play… sadly, it appears not to be… if it were, I would be able to easily argue that they totally had this sort of thing going on. Now? Yeah, I guess we ought to take the text at face value.)
In the Iliad, men can be trusted in a way women cannot. I’m not sure that we still have the right words for this relationship. In the Odyssey, Homer will write the story of a great love between a man and a woman; but here the story is of the great love between men.
There are several (Freud would say that there are no) jokes about this. “Bros before hos” is, I understand, a phrase used by the kids today.
While not concrete proof that we have the right words for this relationship, I think that the gist of the underlying dynamic is there.
Indeed, my first inclination was to post In the Iliad, men can be trusted in a way women cannot. and say “Fixed that for you”. (disclaimer: Honeybear, I was just kidding and anyway I certainly didn’t mean you.)
I look forward to part II!!!Report
In the Iliad, men can be trusted in a way women cannot.
(I can’t believe I screwed that up)Report
Hrm. Strikethrough doesn’t work. Alas.Report
“Honeybear, I was just kidding and anyway I certainly didn’t mean you.)”
Jaybird,…..dude!Report
You should all know that Jaybird called me at work to point me at this thread. As such, you may want to take further such remarks on his point as a sad effort to make me pay more attention to his writings on this site. (This despite the fact that he STILL doesn’t read my book posts… I’m pretty much cool with calling it a draw. OTOH, here I am. Possibly not such a sad effort after all.)
😛Report
I read your book posts every week. I just don’t read them every day.Report
““Honeybear, I was just kidding “Report
I certainly didn’t mean *YOU*!Report
Well, the old men are talking amongst themselves, and they basically agree, “yeah, we should probably get rid of her, but it’s perfectly understandable that he brought her here because she’s so beautiful”. Actually, I found it a bit strange that they didn’t just kick Paris and Helen out in the first place. Certainly someone must have talked to Priam and said, “Hey, your kid’ll get over her”. It is a myth though. Herodotus, rather charmingly, asked around and he heard that what really happened was Paris and Helen got waylaid in Egypt, and the Greeks just didn’t know that they weren’t in the city. His belief was that there was no way they would have kept her there willingly.Report
Hrm… so there is an author saying “here’s what *REALLY* happened” and, instead, giving us “poetic truth”.
The interesting thing is that the “poetic truth” is intended to be more instructive than what really happened. Why *THAT* poetic truth?Report
Herodotus is very entertaining to read because he writes history mostly by writing down whatever different stories he hears from people and trying to figure out what seems most plausible to him. So, there’s a lot of stuff that sounds like gossip and legends. (Admittedly, we often joke that historians are really gossips with footnotes) I looked up the Paris and Helen section, and Herodotus basically says, well, the priests in Egypt told him they had heard that Paris and Helen showed up there and were detained, and that really makes sense to him because why wouldn’t the Trojans have handed her over to the Greeks? They weren’t dummies! Homer must have changed the story around because he was an epic poet and it worked better artistically. But, now, the Egyptians have set him straight.Report
“Reading the Iliad, it finally became clear to me that, in Homer, the Greek gods are present in the world. They are often invisible, communicating through dreams, portents, and speaking directly to chosen men. But this is not akin to grace; these gods are not radically separated from the mundane world; they’re primarily immanent. They’re more powerful than us, so the soldiers often make burnt offerings and perform rituals to please the gods. They walk among us and often toy with us; Agamemnon will rush back to battle because of a lying dream Zeus sends him. But the gods offer nothing like a correct form of existence or religious precepts. The idea of men making a covenant with these gods is ridiculous. And there is nothing like a transcendent divine realm in the sense we find in the religions of Abraham.”
I think your parallel is a little unfair, the Bible is a library of some sixty books. The Greek equivalent isn’t the Iliad alone but the entire collection of ancient classics, including some of the philosophers.
The Jehovah of the Old Testament is certainly no more than a solitary Zeus and it’s only with the insights of the philosophers that the Greek understanding of the divine is fully elaborated.
Ancient Hellenic religion was based on the concept of reciprocity, the idea that friends help each other out and give gifts to each other, much of Christian prosperity theology has been directly traced to this.
As far as an ethical system is concerned Hellenic ethics; Eusebeia, Arete, Sophrosune, Nomos, Genia & etc are as good, if not better, than those offered by any other religion.
Kind regards
MikeReport
Thanks for the insights. I’d love to read more. Any recommendations?Report
I actually realized that your name links to a Yahoo! group on Greek religion! I’ve since joined, although I might have to lurk for a while.Report
“Our conflation of love and sex (and that to sexual identity) likely confuses us; Achilles and Patroclus probably did not ‘get it on’.”
I think this love between Achilles and Patroclus is no different than the love a modern soldier has for his fellow soldiers in his platoon. You cover each others back and probably more than once have been saved by this cooperation. We can consider this part of the Iliad as an early description, if not the first, of a tight knit group fighting together and the strong attachment emotions that come out of this.Report
Yeah, this could be true. The other thing to remember is that these men were out fighting for a decade. It’s clear from the writing that they were essentially farmers back home and now were hacking away at each other for years and years. It definitely must have been a bonding experience.Report
“But I’ve had a few people now tell me (some outside of here) that there’s little to no point in reading the Greek classics if you’re not reading them in Greek.”
I’ve always been struck by this polemic as a form of elitism. By the same argument, I suppose, one cannot and should not read the Bible in translation; no point at all…Report
Yeah, it does get to be a bit of a dick swinging contest I think.
Actually, for me, part of the fun of doing this is that I get to escape my academic training, where you don’t write on any topic without getting the proper papers in order! Professionally, I’d not have the guts to write on Homer without the training. But I sometimes wonder if my own scholarly writing (in a much different area of history) doesn’t get to be too technical, specialized, and frankly boring for just this reason.Report
“as a form of elitism.” But that’s precisely the point, not so? One purpose of advanced education is to erect barriers to entry as a form of exclusion, so as to create a treehouse for an elite. That’s precisely why you learned Greek and Latin in the 19C–and yes, Hebrew also.Report
It’s not the only point though. I agree though. My sense of that era is that a declining elite was fighting a rearguard action in the realm of culture; and, certainly, their culture and education were a form of exclusion. But I think they were fighting a losing battle against an ongoing democratization of culture: libraries, museums, and finally universities gave way to the unwashed.
With tuition rates becoming unconscionable, higher education is getting to be a status symbol once again. But the culture is still accessible, no? Hopefully the Libraries, Museums, and Internet will allow us to learn whatever we want to, even if we can’t get into the treehouse. It seems like the universities only have a monopoly on degrees now, which certainly makes them gatekeepers to the class structure. But, if you want to learn just about anything, just for the fun of it, it’s possible to do so for a lot less money than it takes to go to Harvard; you just don’t get into the clubhouse. But, certainly, there are other benefits to learning these things.Report
One thing to consider is that Achilles spent his puberty disguised as a girl in a girls’ school. (Those girls’ schools in ancient Greece always seemed underwritten, what with guys living in drag and Sappho singing her love songs. You could have made a hilarious 1980s exploitation movie out of Achilles’ school days.) In the version of the story I read, Ulysses outed Achilles as a guy by presenting him with his choice of goodies. Achilles didn’t go for he makeup compact or the Bratz dolls, he went for the swords and Halo II for his X-Box. Consumer goods definitely played a role in the story, at least up to this point.
It was definitely an alien culture.
It is less useful to note that it was actually a post-literate culture. There was Greek writing before the Greek dark ages. It just took a while to redevelop.Report
wow its like i needed some help not!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Report
Do your parents know you’re on the net?Report