Homer and the School of Rhapsodes

Inspired by Nagging Students

Dreamt by Rabbi Ben Scolnic

Edited by Altay Coskun

Odysseus at the Court of Alcinous. Painting by Francesco Hayez (1814–1816), depicting the ‘divine rhapsode’ Demodocus, moving Odysseus to tears.

 

“Which is older, the Torah or Homer’s epics?” Rabbi Ben was asked by the smartest – and nastiest – of all his students. Joshua was in the habit of asking questions whose answers he already knew. A month ago, Joshua had been bribed by his fellow student Simon to wrap up the Rabbi in a conversation for the entire hour of the lecture, since Simon had once more failed to do his prep reading. No big feat for Joshua, who feigned some interest in the Athenian tyrant Peisistratus. He knew quite well that the Rabbi was taken all in by this figure, after he had been entrusted with the translation of a newly discovered book scroll (now published among the Unheard Voices of the Past). This time, Ben had to be more cautious and should not take the bait. But while he was still thinking about a brief authoritative answer, to get started with his actual class, Joshua followed up: “And which author influenced the other – if they took note of each other at all?”

“Brilliant questions,” Ben responded, after taking a deep breath. “I think that the Torah is older, perhaps by one or two centuries.” “But are not at least most scholars in agreement that the Iliad was written around 730 BCE?” Joshua replied. “And do not many elements, such as the seven-day cycle, point to a date after the Babylonian Exile (587/86-539 BCE) for Genesis?” he doubled down.

To which Ben responded, after a sigh: “Fair enough, the tradition of the Torah was in flux for several centuries, and some elements may be late. But we should assume regardless that the main tradition of the Israelites had been developed by the times of king David (ca. 1010-970 BCE) or by king Solomon (970-931 BCE) at the latest.”

Joshua was not giving up: “But, Rabbi, can we be sure that that Hebrew tradition – whatever it may have been at the time – was already written down? May there not have been a longer period of oral transmission – considering that written evidence from Judaea is so much later?” Ben was about to become irritated: “But what difference would it make, if that were the case?”

“Would we not be applying different standards to the Greek and the Judaean tradition? If the Iliad and Odyssey were written down in the late-8th century, should we not likewise assume that Homer drew on much older traditions, perhaps connecting him with the time of the collapsing Bronze Age?” Ben’s voice became sharper: “This sounds quite speculative to me, and equally invalid as to claim a continuous tradition from Adam and Eve to the composition of Genesis.”

“But that’s not my argument, Rabbi,” Joshua defended himself. “Is it not established that the extent and complexity of Homer’s epic presupposes a culture of rhapsody for several generations? Should we not assume that there were even schools training the most gifted of the youth to play the lyre or to rhythmically swing a staff (rhabdos) while reciting stories of old? Would they not need years of study to memorize hundreds, if not thousands, of rhythmically aligned word junctures?”

Ben understood he had lost this battle, and Joshua shamelessly indulged, extending his argument to the exploration of Serbo-Croatic rhapsody by Milman Parry, and ending with Demodocus, the ‘divine rhapsode’ at the head of a guild in the court of the Phaeacian king Alcinous (Odyssey 8.43–45).

Joshua had clearly piqued Ben’s interest. Could the stories of Troy be known to king David? Could the practice of rhapsody throw light on the early development of the holy scriptures? Have we not underestimated the infrastructure of education in the early-1st millennium BCE?

Once back home, Ben googled ‘rhapsody’, and after clicking away the many entries on Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody that showed up first, he let himself be distracted by the fascinating album Symphony of Enchanted Lands by the symphonic metal band Rhapsody (1998). He was as intrigued by Epicus Furor as by Wings of Destiny. When the playlist had reached Unholy Warcry (Symphony of Enchanted Lands II, 2004), he was fast asleep.

Ben felt as swirled into the world of Homer, into Homer himself, into the poet’s very own school of rhapsodes ...

  • S: We have a million questions.

    H: Ask one.

    S: Achilles?

    H: Yes, that is an excellent topic. How shall we think about him? How shall we think about the whole Trojan War?

    S: Should we think about Achilles as the most glorious, strongest, bravest warrior there ever was? Or as a petulant, selfish, spoiled child who sulks in his tent if he does not get his own way?

    H: Achilles was the most glorious warrior there ever was, but I would not call him a child. He was an adult in conflict because he was forced to play a role that he did not really want to play. He did not die because he wanted glory so much. He did not die because he cared about Helen, or Greece, or winning the war. He died because he was so angry about the death of Patroklos. When we see him in Hades, do you remember what he says to Odysseus?

    S: Odysseus calls him the most blessed man who ever was or ever will be.

    H: Yes, but what Achilles says to him is that he would rather be a farmer on someone else’s land than a glorious hero and king in Hades.

    S: But he has immortal fame!

    H: I think he would rather have had many more mortal years. Where did that glory get him? Where did it get any of them? Where did it get Agamemnon? What was the result of the most famous war of all time? The destruction of a great city. Untold suffering. Death on the way home. Death when they returned home. What did all of that accomplish?

    S: But you recount the details of all the fighting and destruction and make it seem so grand. Did you write the epic of war to say that war is terrible?

    H: I think we must ask ourselves the most basic of questions: What are our lives for? Some place deep in my poems, there is an understanding that home and family are the goals of life. Listen to the poems of war, but live lives of peace. Let Odysseus do the wandering for you. Let him have Calypso and Circe, while you stay home. Better the fire of your own hearth than the fire of a burning city.

    S: But the story of war is the story of history.

    H: Only one kind of history. There is a better kind that needs to be written.

Thetis and the Nereids mourning Achilles, Corinthian black-figure hydria, c. 555 BC (Louvre, Paris)

  • S: We have so many further questions. Will you really be so good as to answer us?

    H: If I can. Remember, I was inspired by the Muses and may not understand everything myself. I will do my best.

    S: In that case, we would love to understand the episode of the Sirens (Odyssey 12.39ff.). Who were they? Were they goddesses? Monsters? Animals? What were they?

    H: You have asked me one of the most difficult questions. I could talk about so many aspects of that part of my tale. What is important is not who or what they were, or what their melody was, but the words that they sing, and what Odysseus hears, and how he reacts, and what his sailors see in their leader.

    S: But before you explain that, don’t we need to know who they were?

    H: No - let me continue. Here are the words that Odysseus hears:

    Odysseus, bravest of heroes,
    Draw near to us, on our green island,
    Odysseus, we’ll teach you wisdom,
    We’ll give you love, sweeter than honey.
    The songs we sing, soothe away sorrow,
    And in our arms, you will be happy.
    Odysseus, bravest of heroes,
    The songs we sing, will bring you peace.

    (Cf. the slightly modified version later transmitted in Odyssey 12.184-188.)

    S: We know the story. To him, the Sirens look as beautiful as Helen. He wants to get lost in the arms of the Sirens The words and the music enchant his heart. He wants to plunge into the water and swim to the island. He strains against the ropes which hold him to the ship’s mast; he strains so hard that the bonds cut deeply into the skin on his back and arms.

    H: You do know the story well. But now we get to what I want to teach you, the relationship between Odysseus and his men. They cannot hear him, but they see him urging them to free him. Since based on Circe’s warning, he had given them careful instructions, they expected him to react like this, and they row harder to get away.

    S: Now you have come to our question. To his sailors, who cannot hear the song because of the beeswax in their ears, the Sirens seem like hungry monsters with horrible, crooked claws. The sailors can see that there is a great heap of dead men's bones lying all around, with the flesh still rotting off them.

    But Odysseus is enchanted with the sweetness of their song. To him, they sit beside the sea, combing their long golden hair. Which is it? Are they beautiful women or monsters?

    H: To Odysseus, the leader who seeks fame and glory, who thinks great things about himself, the words of the song draw him to the island like iron to a magnet. Odysseus is like so many leaders, who are so consumed by themselves that they are consumed. What is most important is that we see Odysseus as his crew sees him, writhing and pathetic, prepared to destroy everyone around him for a moment of vanity.

Odysseus facing the Sirens, depicted on an Athenian red-figure vase, early-5th century BCE.

  • S: You are Cassandra.

    H: I beg your pardon.

    S: You are Cassandra.

    H: I only mention her a few times. She is barely a minor figure. I mentioned her as a virgin daughter of Priam, as bewailing Hector's death, as chosen by Agamemnon as his slave mistress after the sack of Troy, and as being killed by Clytemnestra over Agamemnon's corpse after Clytemnestra murders him on his return home.

    S: You are avoiding my point. The Iliad is the work of a Cassandra. In a way, I think you avoid making her a more important character so that no one voices what you are really saying.

    H: I think you have other stories about Cassandra in your mind that I do not have in my work.

    S: Exactly. You know those stories, too, more than I do, and yet you did not develop her character. Before the fall of Troy took place, Cassandra foresaw that if Paris went to Sparta and brought Helen back as his wife, her arrival would bring the downfall and destruction of Troy. Despite the prophecy and ignoring Cassandra's warning, Paris still goes to Sparta and returns with Helen. While the people of Troy rejoice, Cassandra, angry with Helen's arrival, furiously snatched away Helen's golden veil and tore at her hair.

    H: I do not have this. Do you know how and why she was given the gift of prophecy?

    S: Apollo was struck by her beauty and gave her the gift. Some stories say there was a deal so that she would have sex with him, and then she refused, while others say he gave it to her without any prior agreement, and she refused. When she refused, he placed a curse on her, ensuring that nobody would believe her warnings. Cassandra was left with the knowledge of future events but could neither alter these events nor convince others of the validity of her predictions.

    H: Why do you say I am Cassandra?

    S: Because your work is about war, and it is a warning against war. And if Cassandra is out in front of everything that happens, all the characters and all of their actions are absurd. Instead, you inhabit the characters with all kinds of emotions and qualities and faults, so that they become people.

    H: This is what I tried to do.

    S: Cassandra is not one of the people you give such flesh to, because she represents our morality, our moral conscience, which issue warnings. Cassandra is moral conscience, predicting ill to come and warning that punishment will follow, and grief arise. Cassandra points out moral failings and their consequences, all of which opposes Apollo. And so everyone thinks she is out of her mind.

    H: What, then, is Apollo?  

    S: The lust for power. When Apollo wants to subdue Cassandra, it is Power that wants to overcome morality. He hates her because she will not give in to him. So he makes it so that no one will listen to their conscience and so they go do horrible things such as killing and warring.

    H: When people do not listen, they are refusing to believe what at the same time they know to be true, and their denial is a wall protecting them from what is real.

    One hard part is to place that wisdom in verse, to put it into other people’s voices.

    But that is not the hardest part.

    S: What is the hardest part?

    H: The hardest part, knowing what you know, is not to go mad.

Menelaus captures Helen in Troy, Ajax the Lesser drags Cassandra from the Palladium (the sacred sculpture of Athena) before the eyes of her father Priam. Roman mural from the Casa del Menandro, Pompeii. Drawn from Wikipedia ‘Cassandra’.

  • S: Can we talk about the Catalogue of Ships?

    H: Of course. I am very proud of it. I asked the Muses for special inspiration, and I believe I received it.

    S: No doubt. Some might think it is a boring list, but we see great artistry. You compare the army to a fire blazing on a distant mountain; to leaves and flowers showing their beauty in peace; to flocks of geese and cranes, to different kinds of birds which are the different clans coming together. But then you compare the army to a swarm of flies; they now have uniformity. You close the catalogue of Greeks with the same simile with which you open it, comparing the army to fire. The whole poem is an artistic whole.

    H: I thank the Muses for their help.

    S: But what is it really about? There is a message here. This is why you worked so hard to make this a whole.

    H: You understand. The panorama of “the Greeks,” of one nation of nations, is exactly my goal.

    S: Because the reality of “Greeks” coming together as one is a fantasy, or at least a rarity. Only a common enemy can bring them together.

    H: Yes, but is this not what I should be doing, to use art to teach, to teach unity through strength and strength through unity? When Greek kings squabble over pride and spoils, is this not beneath them? When Greek kingdoms fight over nothing, is this not the greatest waste? What good is glory if you stand over a dead man who should have been your neighbor and friend?  

    So yes, I bring the mighty panorama of splendor to show what we could have been, and I still hope, we could be, if we would be worthy of the ideals that we say we believe in.

    S: This is the fire blazing on the distant mountain ...

The Greek fleet in Wolfgang Petersen’s Troy (2004)

  • S: We are fascinated to think about how you went about creating your work. Obviously, you had a great deal of material to work with, many stock epithets, stories, descriptions.

    H: Centuries worth. So much that I had to narrow it down to the tenth year of siege and develop it from there.

    S: The two main characters of your two great works are Achilles and Odysseus.

    H: Again, I did not create the characters. I presented what was passed down to me.

    S: Yes, but there seems to be a great deal that you do with what was passed down. For example, it was passed down that Priam came to Achilles to retrieve Hector’s body, but you have given us what may be the most touching scene in either of your works.

    H: I cannot disagree with you. It is a powerful moment. We see the honorable and noble king, no longer acting like a lofty monarch but like any grieving, desperate father looking for a bit of mercy. 

    S: Achilles, for his part, is not unmoved. But Achilles is a figure who seems to be trapped in his own space between the gods, whom he respects, and humans, from whom he seems distant.

    H: Yes, but do you see him in the Odyssey where he says it would be better to be alive as a slave than a king in the underworld?

    S: We don't believe him. He was so trapped in his noble destiny that he became his destiny.

    H: Yes, that speech does ring a little hollow. I wanted to say that there is no great glory in being dead. But to go back to Priam and Achilles, there is a message I was trying to convey.

    S: That we should have mercy?

    H: Yes, but more: We may have a chance to stop our endless wars when every king sees every soldier as his son.

Achilles and mourning Priam depicted on a red-figure vase.

  • S: We are confused with what you say at different points in your works about immortality.

    H: There are many things to say. It is obviously one of the important subjects for every human being.

    S: We count four kinds of immortality. One is through children.

    H: This is a possibility for almost all of us.

    S: In Odyssey, Odysseus visits Hades. We asked you last time about his dialogue with Achilles. So, does this mean that all of us go to Hades in the afterlife? There seems to be the prospect that Achilles will reach Elysium. Which is it? Will Achilles stay in Hades or live in the eternal bliss of Elysium?

    H: I would add a third kind of immortality for Achilles, of which I have him explicitly aware, that he will live on through the epic about him. His deeds and his glory will go on forever through the Iliad and other works about him.

    S: Yes, that and the immortality through children are clear to see. But we still ask, Hades or Elysium?

    H: You are asking in a simplistic manner. Another possibility is that of being immortalized through being venerated in the cult. The word Elysium literally means a sacred place which was struck by the thunderbolt.

    S: Let us ask this way. Odysseus was wandering in the realms of the extreme west when he came to Aeaea, island of Circe. From there, he is sent on his way to the underworld by traveling beyond the sea until he reaches the cosmic river Oceanus (Odyssey 11.21-22). On his way back from the underworld, he has to leave Oceanus before returning to Aiaia, which you now describe as in the extreme east, and he comes to the abode of Eos and sunrise (Odyssey 12.1-4). And you say that Elysium is situated on the banks of Oceanus, from which the wind Zephyrus blows to reanimate mortals (Odyssey 4.567-68).

    H: What is your question? Is there a relationship between Hades and Elysium? Yes. And let me mention Heracles, who abides on Olympus (Odyssey 11.602). The bones of Achilles and Patroclus are placed together in a golden amphora that Hephaestus made and Dionysus gave to Thetis (Odyssey 6.130-40). The preservation of bones is a way to show that the hero will ultimately be regenerated. So, Achilles will achieve immortality.

    S: We are more confused than ever.

    H: That is because you do not understand that all of this is poetry.

Odysseus and Hermes encounter Elpenor at the entrance of Hades. Depiction on red-figure vase. Lykaon Painter, 440 BC. Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.