"La société achéenne de l'âge héroïque, pour lointaine qu'elle

paraisse à nos yeux de modernes, n'est en aucune manière une

société primitive. A l'éclat de la civilisation matérielle et de l 'art,

dont témoignent notamment les vases d'or ciselés de Vaphio ou

de Dendra, se joint déjà un grand raffinement de moeurs."

- Jean Bérard in Homère, 1963

In his book Die Welt der Polis, German philosopher Eric Voegelin remarked that Homer was "the blind man who sees", who looked with high scorn upon the brutal and unjust "Age of Heroes" (1). With The Odyssey Homer is said to have constructed a history in which an assembly of gods have restored justice and punished the evildoers. It is believed that Homer was an advocate of another age, where older traditions and rituals were strictly observed. Alain de Benoist notes: "Mais Homère était plus encore: le dépositaire du vieil esprit hellène dans sa pureté, le maître de toute sagesse, le gardien des traditions." (2)

Regardless whether Homer's motivations for the (re)production of The Odyssey were that of a conservative's or whether the verses had been entirely handed down to him from earlier poets and bards, his lengthy epic that recounts king Odysseus' wanderings provides us with a host of rituals, customs, traditions and remarkable sociocultural-religious ideas and attitudes that seem unusual in a modern, individualistic Western person's view. The original Homeric epics have been committed to writing in the 7th and 6th century b.C. Today both Hesiod and Homer as well as many other poets are of an immense importance to the reconstruction of ancient Mediterranean theology (3). This essay will try to give a critical and explanatory summary of these cultural curiosities. I will try to consider this rich array of practices and ideas from a broad, cultural perspective.

Much of the rituals and beliefs of the Achaeans were linked with religion, the existential matters of life. In The Odyssey we are allowed to look at funeral rituals and sacrifices. Both Odysseus and the people of Ithaca realise that erecting a mound for their deceased ones is essential for the afterlife and for the people's esteem. As long as Odysseus is missing, the people of Ithaca - including Odysseus' wife Penelope and his son, prince Telemachus - are not sure whether their mourning is done over a hero, who died in battle, or over a warrior who died on a lonely island, or in an other fameless fashion. Fortunately, stories were told about Odysseus which indicated that he had been a good warrior. But Telemachus sighs:

Apparently, for Odysseus and his family (6), fame (Gr. kleos) is unattainable as long as he has not returned (Gr. nostos = homecoming) from Troy, regardless of the Greek successes at Troy. Also Penelope will not experience fame if Odysseus never returns, as she sighs when talking to Odysseus whom she does not recognise yet:

Later we will return to the concepts of fame and glory. Mourning rituals were not only important to the next of kin, but also to the deceased's soul. The case of Odysseus' brother in arms Elpenor shows us what happens to souls that have not had a proper burial. At Circe's palace, Elpenor had too much wine, fell off the roof and broke his neck. There was no time to build him a grave-mound and to shed tears over him. But Elpenor's spirit will not rest. In one of the most chilling scenes in The Odyssey, when Odysseus descends to the house of Hades where the dead live, Elpenor is the first spirit out of hundreds to come up to Odysseus:

We see that a neglected ritual may cause the wrath of the gods. But rituals and customs do not only have a religious imperative; they are also very useful to the characters's emotions and social lives. The English philosopher Roger Scruton noted that Odysseus' encounter with his sorrowful supplicant is an interesting example of what rituals and traditions are and what they mean to people. Scruton claims:

According to Scruton, in every situation the characters in The Odyssey know what to do; their emotions are pure and their minds and acts are natural. The rituals and customs of a common, public culture narrow the gap between emotion and deed: they tell Odysseus what to do, more so in the situations where love, sorrow, pain, anger or revenge are the true motives and where he meets other people. In a public culture, mourning and weeping is something you just do:

In Book I Athena tells Telemachus to refrain from looking for Odysseus for a year if people tell him that he has been found. Otherwise he must build him a mound, weep over his passing, and expel the suitors. In both The Iliad and in The Odyssey do we find the custom of mourners cutting off their hair. In Book IV this is what Menelaus tells Telemachus to do if Odysseus can be mourned over, but he should also have cheeks wet with tears. In Book 9, verses 72-5, we read that Odysseus "would not let his ships set sail until the crews had raised the triple cry, saluting each poor comrade cut down by the fierce Cicones." (10)

Dying in battle is a noble act. Being a great winner dying lonely at sea is, according to Odysseus, humiliating and fameless:

What Odysseus is after is kléos; glory and fame. These are qualifications, bestowed on you by companions, compatriots, the people around you, and by the gods. You cannot have glory without people around you confirming that ("My glory spread by comrades"). Dying without glory is just as worthless as surviving without glory. Our present age is less focused on the social implications of a person's glorious past. Today, a person can be very special without constantly receiving confirmations from the world around him and from the deseased and the unborn. Not in ancient Greece, where social circumstances decide what you are supposed to feel. In the ancient Greek non-individualistic society with strong social ties, kléos is an ancient and forceful drive: your fame should be told and heard of; the word derives from an Indo-european root *k̂leu̯os, 'fame'.  In Sanskrit the same word occurs with the same meaning: śrávas. In Indo-european languages the root has lead to words denoting 'to listen', 'word', 'call', 'listen', 'sound' and the like. The greatest reward for Odysseus is undying fame, kléos áphthitonon, on the lips of men. This two-word Homeric formula must be as ancient as Proto-Indo-European times; cf. Vedic śrávas ákṣitam , which consists of the exact same words. (13) Indo-europeanists believe that this two-word formula, *k̂leu̯os n̥dhg^whitom in Proto-Indo-European, must have survived millennia of ancient literature, as we find more of such shared formulaic instances in Greek, Vedic and other ancient Indo-European oral epic literature.

In the final stage of the epic the ghost of king Menelaus tells Achilles' ghost that people have reared a grand and noble tomb that can be seen from afar by generations to come. Eternal fame also gives men high esteem with the gods:

In such a society it is important for an aristocrat as Odysseus to behave according to rules that define nobility or heroism. Pride is closely linked to esteem. When Odysseus arrives on the island of Scheria, the Phaeacians offer him a great meal. He is very tired from his wanderings, filled with sorrow and just wants to rest. But then he is challenged by Laodamas to join him in a wrestling competition.

But when Broadsea - Phaeacian king Alcinous' son -- calls Odysseus a mere gold-grabbing skipper of profiteers, and certainly no athlete, he enrages Odysseus, who cannot bear the shame of being put on a par with a merchant. In our culture it would suffice to say that you are not a merchant; that will convince people. You could also ignore the allegation, because you know that you are an aristocrat. In our materialistic and economistic society being a successful merchant is the same as being a member of the élite: in circles of the jet-set arictocracy is being put on a par with merchants. We litterally see European aristocracy mingling with merchants: hundreds of princes of the European Gotha marrying rich bankers' and businessmen's daughters, etc. Today, people's claims to fame consist of attempting to amass a fortune in the field of sports, showbusiness or other mass-related market branches. Having amassed a fortune is virtually the same as being a member of the élite. Not for Odysseus: aristocracy has to do with excellence, style, tradition, prominence and good upbringing. In order to prove that he is an aristos and not some businessman, Odysseus very reluctantly accepts the challenge, but what is most remarkable is that he sharply retorts the accusation of not taking pride, by accusing Broadsea of ignoble behaviour. At the same time Odysseus describes for us what it takes to be a noble person:

Here the concept arete, or excellence, is an important determiner for the nobility of a person. In Homer, a person's arete is specifically indicated by his skill and prowess as a soldier in war, and as an athlete in peace. (17) In our age Odysseus' decision to join the competition may come across as an overambitious act, but Homer does not want to show a high-flying man; he wants to show that Odysseus is a man of principles, true to the ancient rules of the aristocrat. The game is not just play, but a repetitive attempt to receive affirmation for one's fame by showing arete. Only noble men and not the common man display arete, and "the aristoi compete among themselves 'always to be the best and to be superior to others.' In his personal conduct, the Homeric hero possesses aidos, or a sense of duty. An affront to this sense of duty is known as nemesis, and is aroused in the hearts of others when aidos is slighted."  (18)

Broadsea's challenge is particularly insulting for Odysseus, who had acquired great excellence by ten years of killing, fighting and losing friends on the plains of Troy. We see that excellence and honour have merged here.

Ancient Greece was an aristocracy (Gr. aristoi = 'the best' kratos = 'power') which consisted of kings, royals and other people of excellence and great talents. In his address to Broadsea Odysseus mentions several qualities of an aristocrat:

1. Build (strong, athletic body)

2. Brain (intelligence)

3. Flowing speech (eloquence)

4. Looks, beauty, charm

5. Self-control (remember Odysseus' patience with the suitors)

That he mentions looks, beauty and charm might come to us as a surprise. Everywhere in The Odyssey do we find this beautiful human type of the aristocrat. Laodamas says that Odysseus cannot be a mean man with a build like that; in Book 4 King Menelaos tells Prince Telemachus that his noble origin gives him wise words, and people of a distinguished origin have good dispositions. In Book 17 Odysseus, as a beggar, tells suitor Eurymachos to give him a morsel of food while reminding him of his noble personality: "You're hardly the worst Achaean here, it seems. The noblest one, in fact. You look like a king to me!" [Book 17, 458-460] (19) A noble person must give a guest food; this is the principle of hospitality or xenia. I will return to this later.)

Only by judging their looks you can tell if people are supposed to be wise and prominent. In Book 18 we find Penelope reproachfully telling her son Telemachus:

People in The Odyssey are particularly proud of their ancestors and are called by their father's name, mother's name, by what their fathers and grandfathers have done in battle; Odysseus wants to return to the housing of his forefathers. We see that people consider past generations and those yet to come. Kléos is supposed to span many generations. In the Greek society, the dead play just as an important role as the yet unborn do. Names and esteem are hereditary, but so is the charisma of the aristocrat. Menelaus gives Telemachus a great compliment when he says:

The image of aristocracy of body and soul is powerful and evokes remarks in Friedrich Nietzsche's book Twilight of the Idols (Götzen-Dämmerung) about the Greek philosopher Socrates. Being well-acquainted with presocratic Greek morals and values, Nietzsche detects in an ugly person, such as Socrates, the onset of the demise of aristocratic values:

"By birth, Socrates belonged to the lowest class: Socrates was plebeian. We are told, and can see in sculptures of him, how ugly he was. But ugliness, in itself an objection, is among the Greeks almost a refutation. Was Socrates a Greek at all? Ugliness is often enough the expression of a development that has been crossed, thwarted in some way. Or it appears as declining development. The anthropological criminologists tell us that the typical criminal is ugly: monstrum in fronte, monstrum in animo. But the criminal is a decadent. Was Socrates a typical criminal? At least that would be consistent with the famous judgment of the physiognomist that so offended the friends of Socrates. This foreigner told Socrates to his face that he was a monstrum - that he harboured in himself all the worst vices and appetites. And Socrates merely answered: 'You know me, sir!'" (22)

Slaves and common people need powerful lords. But ruling with the whip is not an ideal situation for a noble person with fine manners. While referring to the lawless suitors, Odysseus' old friend Mentor reluctantly tells us in a meeting of nobles about this dilemma in case lawlessness has to be checked:

As mentioned earlier, the principle of xenia should be observed by real nobles. This form of hospitality is an ideal, and by showing up as a beggar among the sponging, unexperienced and indecent suitors, Odysseus acts as a foil against which the suitors are being depicted as possibly the worst individuals that the king's palace could ever have harboured. On all the islands and in all the towns that Odysseus and Telemachus visit, the kings are most hospitable. Typically, the hosts do not want to hear their guests out about their identities, until the copious meal and the wine have been enjoyed. This stresses the principles of unconditional hospitality: it does not matter who is sitting at your table. It is an extremely un-individualistic custom, but in a large area with scattered islands and - in our modern views -- primitive infrastructure it can be a matter of survival to the guest.

Here we see one of the aspects of tradition: not only does tradition provide us with information and rules, but it also contains purely practical wisdom. In cultures where many people are remote neighbours, one normally finds traditions where hospitality is considered a great virtue. It is a mechanism of mutual aid, of which the practical purpose is not always clear, but it is still present and therefore effective.

Odysseus, his companions and Telemachus could not have survived their wanderings across the Mediterranean Sea if their hosts did not receive and treat them: at Pylos Pisistratus and Thrasymedes offer Telemachus and goddess Pallas Athena (in the guise of Mentor) a great meal and wine, and only later do they want to know who the couple is (28); the same happens at Menelaus' palace (29) and it happens at goddess Circe's house (albeit initially with the purpose of deceit). In book 15 Telemachus -- who is in a hurry -- bids Pisistratus not to tell his father Nestor that he is in town. Otherwise Nestor will demand of him to stay at the palace. Nestor is "in love with his hospitality", as Pisistratus says. (30) Telemachus has been warned: earlier in The Odysseus (in book 5), Nestor refused to let Telemachus spend the night in his own ship. And he has been overladen with gifts and gold by Nestor, Menelaus and other hosts.

Xenia is an essential virtue. When Odysseus, as a stranger - a beggar even -- stays at his old swineherd's humble abode, he is testing his hospitality by repeatedly hinting about him not wanting to be a nuisance to his host, about where he could spend the following days and about the fact that he does not need blankets during the cold nights. Luckily, the swineherd is the most hospitable host that Odysseus wants him to  be:

Although this is a tradition, and therefore something you just do, Homer shows that there are two pragmatic reasons for xenia: you acquire a good reputation and the gods are watching you. A king feels that it is his honour to be the most hospitable man in the land if a king's son visits the country. Odysseus wants to continue his journey home, as his host Alcinous says:

The gods are watching, too. All guests, even beggars, have been sent by Zeus, Eumaeus says in Book 14, verses 63-66  (34), and the suitors volley back Antinous' shamelessly aggressive and inhospitable behaviour towards Odysseus the helpless beggar, as follows:

Transposed to our present days, Antinous' behaviour would be the same as swearing at a monk. The gods were regarded with a lot of ambiguity; deceitful yet just and wrathful as they could be. It reminds us of Elpenor's inappropriate burial which cannot be left unavenged or uncorrected. When Telemachus received Athena, daughter of Zeus in Book 1, he did not know that it was she, but he was most hospitable to the stranger. He stood the divine test of xenia.

In the ancient poem Metamorphoses by the Roman poet Ovid (43 BC - AD 17), this concept of the divine test of hospitality yields the beautiful story of the couple Baucis and Philemon. This poor, elderly Phrygian couple was being visited by Jupiter and his son Mercury in human shape. The couple showed great hospitality to the strangers and gave them their finest food, wine and fowl. When the strangers showed their divine powers, Bausic and Philemon were shocked. The pious couple was saved from destruction whereas their whole impious, inhospitable town was changed into a lake. Their house remained untouched and the gods changed it into a temple. The couple was transformed into two strong trees (35). The strength of this imperative is reminiscent of the Judeo-Christian Flood where sinful people are being drowned.

In The Odyssey, with every meal or slaughtering ritual the table companions perform sacrificing rituals. If the rituals are performed appropriately, the gods will be well-disposed towards man. In Book 14 we are given an exact step-by-step description of a sacrifice performed by the loyal swineherd. It is his fattest hog: he plucked tufts from its head, threw them into the fire, prayed to all the powers, begging them to bring Odysseus back; he then sprinkled barley over strips of fatty pork, and so it goes on for more verses. (36) The reason for Homer to describe it so elaborately could be that he wants to show that the swineherd performs the rituals meticulously, as a man of God. After eating, the swineherd and all the other people in The Odyssey pour their best wine as a libation.

In Book 12, Cattle of the Sun, Odysseus' men have organised a cattle raid by stealing the Sungod's cows. This is an act of desacration. But they also commited desacration when performing the ritual inappropriately:

After this Odysseus' wanderings went into their longest, most luckless stage. The gods would have all men killed, except for Odysseus, who would be confined to Calypso's island for many years. Interestingly, The Odyssey begins with a short reference to this event, as if this cattle raid and the descration were the reason for our hero's exile.

Let us turn to the fine traditional fabric of society: society in The Odyssey is clearly patriarchal. Men are warriors, they rule over their houses and families (oikos) and over their people. The main reason why Odysseus' oikos is being terrorised by suitors is that the man of the house is gone. Telemachos is the only heir to the estate and to the throne, but when Odysseus had left for Troy Telemachus was still a child. Telemachus tells Eumaeus:

"It's not that our people have turned against me,

Keen for a showdown. Nor have I any brothers at fault,

Brothers a man can trust to fight beside him, true,

No matter what deadly blood-feud rages on…

Zeus made our line a line of only sons.

Arcesius had only one son, Laertes,

And Laertes had only one son, Odysseus,

And I am Odysseus' only son."

[Book 16, 127-134] (38)

The palace had hitherto been ruled by his mother Penelope, but as a widow she is unable to chase away the suitors. If Odysseus does not return, it is time for Telemachus to grow up soon and for Penelope to get married and leave the palace. In Indo-european societies a widow is a problem; the widower is not. Interestingly, Indo-europeanists have reconstructed a Proto-Indo-European word for 'widow': *uidheuo-, denoting 'separated' (39). But they have not found a Proto-Indo-European word for widower. For example, Dutch weduwnaar and English widower both go back to widow + er/naar. The final roots -er or -naar are male suffixes, which have been added to the word later. The other Indo-european languages have, later on, added similar male suffixes to the word (40).

The rich widow is the target of suitors and of shame and grief; Penelope must be lead by a man. The suitors will continue to slaughter her cattle if she does not choose either one of them (Book 2). In Book 15 Athena tells Telemachus (while he is still at Nestor's palace, ready to look for his father):

I would like to note the following: apparently, a widow forgets about her former husband and about her first children. According to tradition, the lives of children who have lost one parent will never be the same. This is reminiscent of many ancient Germanic stories like that of Frau Holle: here a sweet and diligent stepdaughter is unloved by her stepmother, who is also a widow. The widow's own daughter is lazy and ugly, but she receives all the love. Eventually the diligent stepdaughter falls through a well into the Underworld where she meets the goddess of Death, Frau Holle (Hölle = Hell). Scholars have explained this as an attempted suicide. (41)

If Penelope gets married, it means that she will have to leave the house that she is living in now. That is what Telemachus knows, embedded as he is in his society's traditions:

A woman cannot take care of all the estate and the estate should be inherited through the male line. The act of wedding implies that the man leads the woman to his house. Indo-europeanists have also reconstructed the root *uedh-, 'to lead home', which is cognate with English 'to wed'. It implies marriage purely from the man's point of view. This emphasises the importance of the man's perspective in these societies.

Suddenly Telemachus displays his manly power, and tells his mother that she is no longer in charge of the house. After all, he is older now and Athena has made him a man by sending him off on a voyage. He knows by now that the beggar is Odysseus. His mother does not. Telemachus interrupts his mother and he allows the beggar to use Odysseus' bow:

Homer shows us that tradition is important to ancient Greek society. He does this, not only by demonstrating traditions, rituals and customs in an anecdotal way, but he also shows that there is a deeper layer hidden within tradition. According to The Odyssey, tradition and good behaviour are things you do and which have serious consequences for your personal consitution. Unlike written laws, they form a part of the characters's conscience; it is a conscience that is enforced by the gods, who are the final law-givers. We see that rules, traditions, honour, glory and gods are closely intertwined. Maybe Homer was detecting lawless and honourless behaviour by younger people in his age. Maybe he wanted to tell the listeners how to conduct. In any case, he has provided us with an ancient window that has been allowing us for over two millennia to look into the world of the colourful, proud age of presocratic aristocracy.