The Odyssey and the Bible: Ancient Enduring Stories

What these two ancient stories have in common and why that’s important

Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey has taken the entertainment world by the horns, grossing over $470 million in IMAX and $1.55 billion worldwide. Its IMAX run has been extended to the end of September after its huge success in August. Even before the explosion of this epic tale, Emily Wilson’s 2017 translation of The Odyssey was popular among English readers, surpassing one million copies sold since publication.

This is one pop culture movement that I am unashamed to say I jumped on the bandwagon (I say pop culture, but really, The Odyssey is over 3,000 years old). I had feared the epic before watching Nolan’s adaptation. It was ancient, archaic, and foreign. I’ve always desired to read classics, but felt like they were inaccessible to me due to the distance of language, history, and culture. (Ironic, I know, for someone who is a pastor and theologian. . . It’s not like the Bible is terribly easy to read.)

In any case, I absolutely loved everything about the film—the artistry, sets, costume design, cinematography, score, acting, and screenwriting. It was stunning. I then found myself unexpectedly delighted when I read Wilson’s translation—its ninety-one-page introduction scratched every historical, cultural, and theological itch I had about The Odyssey. Wilson explains the authorship and cultural context of the epic and highlights its major themes: hospitality, returning home, divine-human interactions, the hero, and the return of the (despised) king.

Now, I’ve been immersed in the book of Judges for the past four years as I researched, taught, and wrote a Bible study on it for publication. I love the world of Judges—it’s harsh, brutal, and unforgiving, but there are glimmers of hope as YHWH, the God of the Israelites, interacts with and through his people, Israel. Truth be told, it’s not that different from the world of The Odyssey, and I found out why: they happen at the same time (not exactly concurrent, but within the same historical period). This knowledge led me down an entire rabbit trail of wondering how The Odyssey and the Bible are similar, and what this means. This essay will explore how both works imagine a disordered world awaiting restoration: The Odyssey restores order in the violent return of its king, while Judges anticipates restoration by a divinely sent king who defeats evil by suffering.

The Setting: Late Bronze Age

The Late Bronze Age (1550–1200 BCE) is renowned for political and economic flourishing followed by dramatic collapse across the Mediterranean and MENA (Middle East and North Africa). In the earlier part of the age, international trade prospered, roads were built, sea trade routes were established, and literacy, metallurgy, and architecture developed rapidly. It was a glorious age. And then, suddenly, it all collapsed.

As with most imperial collapses, the causes were multifactorial: volcanoes erupted and droughts and famine ensued, the “Sea Peoples” raided along the Mediterranean coasts, and economies crumbled. The Hittite and Mycenaean empires fell apart, leaving room for the rise of tribal confederacies who vied for political footholds in the power vacuum.1 In Canaan and Greece alike, a “Dark Age” fell—it was a time in which violence and wars were a way for tribes to assert themselves, literacy largely disappeared, and commonly held values such as xenia (hospitality) were challenged.

Authorship in the Late Iron Age

The Odyssey is estimated to have been written down from oral tradition in the late eighth century BCE. The book of Judges has a slightly later date of composition in the sixth century BCE, also after centuries of oral tradition.2For the Jews, the book’s transcription served as an explanation for their exile to Babylon and Assyria: they abandoned the laws of YHWH and broke their covenant with him, so they were served the terms of their covenant through exile. It was a warning as well—to avoid another exile, they must obey the terms of their covenant with YHWH and be faithful to him alone.

For the Greeks, The Odyssey is “a complex response by the Greeks to their growing dominance as traders, travellers, colonizers, pirates, leaders, and warriors” from the eighth century BCE onward.3 It was a warning to not abandon the old ways of xenia and the worship of the gods—for if they abandoned these principles, they might experience another Dark Age.

So, we see that the books are similar in origin and purpose despite different contexts. Both ask, “Who can restore order when society as we know it has collapsed?” Both seek to explain their present circumstances and provide a warning to their people at the time of writing; however, one is for a people who were exiled and struggling to keep hold of their identity, and the other is for a people who were flourishing in the Mediterranean once more.

What Makes the Bible Special?

This has fascinating implications for the Jewish and Christian belief in the inspiration of Scripture. While The Odyssey never claims to be “scripture” for the Greeks, Wilson argues that it held a “canonical status” in ancient Greece and was, alongside The Iliad, the “foundation of Greek and Roman elite education.”4 As a Christian theologian, I began to ask, “Well, what’s the difference, then? If other ancient literature was addressing similar questions of culture and identity at (generally) the same time, then what makes the Bible special?”

To answer this question, we need to look at the specific themes of The Odyssey and the book of Judges.

Xenia and the Stranger

The Greek word xenia means “hospitality,” a word that has been reduced in the twenty-first century to mean pillow mints and Nespresso. In the ancient world, it meant receiving any stranger who walked into your home and providing them with food and shelter as long as they needed it, and then giving them what they needed to continue their journey. In a world without hotels, this was a mainstay for any traveller.

The Odyssey plays strongly on xenia, contrasting Odysseus’ Trojan horse with his desire for welcome upon his return home. As a result of his betrayal of xenia, Odysseus is cursed with repeated instances of poor hospitality: Circe turns his men into pigs, the Laestrygonians and Polyphemus the Cyclops kill and eat his men, the sirens lure men so that they might consume them, and Calypso overextends her hospitality by refusing to let Odysseus go. In Ithaca, the suitors abuse the hospitality of Penelope and Telemachus.

They haunt our house

day after day, and kill our cows and pigs

and good fat goats. They feast and drink red wine;

not caring if they waste it all. (2.54–7)

Despite the abuse suffered in his own home, Telemachus offers hospitality to a beggared stranger—a theme that will return near the end when Odysseus himself returns home under the guise of a beggar.

Dear guest, you were so kind to give me

this fatherly advice. I will remember.

I know that you are eager to be off,

but please enjoy a bath before you go,

and take a gift with you. (1.307–10)

The book of Judges similarly plays on the theme of hospitality. Its Hebrew equivalent to xenia, gur, refers to the warm welcome given to strangers, including time to rest, eat, wash, and enjoy conversation in a safe place.5Israel was commanded to care for strangers and foreigners because they were once strangers and foreigners in Egypt. The poor were to be welcomed into their homes and their festivals were to be celebrated with the foreigners in their midst.

“Do not take advantage of foreigners who live among you in your land. Treat them like native-born Israelites, and love them as you love yourself. Remember that you were once foreigners living in the land of Egypt. I am the Lord your God.” (Lev 19:33–34, NLT)

The book of Judges details the spiralling death of Israel’s theocracy. Each leader becomes more corrupt, and this is evidenced by the progressive abuse of hospitality in the book. Ehud kills the Moabite king under the pretense of delivering a message (Judg 3:12–23). Jael offers warm milk and a blanket to the fleeing Canaanite general and then kills him with a tent peg (Judg 4:15–22).6 In vengeance, Samson kills thirty wealthy men and strips them of their robes, and then later burns his enemy’s fields after they give his wife to someone else (Judg 14–15). And finally, a Levite and his concubine.7 seek refuge for the night in the town of Gibeah, an Israelite town, and the men of the town demand that the Levite give his concubine to them for gang rape—an act that kills the woman and sparks a civil war (Judg 19–20).

The moral of both tales is this: failing to offer hospitality to strangers is a measure of the society’s downfall. A lack of hospitality is a lack of respect for humans and God(s) alike.

The difference between these stories lies in where the lack of hospitality is found. In The Odyssey, it is the monsters and villains who are inhospitable: Polyphemus, the Laestrygonians, Circe, and the abusive suitors of Ithaca. In the book of Judges, the monsters are found within Israel: the so-called people of God are the perpetrators of the greatest evil known to ancient Palestine. It’s a shocking, provocative comparison.

Two Kinds of Heroes

In The Odyssey, Odysseus is consistently described as cunning, intelligent, scheming, and resourceful. He is “the clever mastermind of many schemes” (8.486) and a “clever trickster” (9.445). He is just as frequently described as the violent “city-sacker” (of Troy) (9.504, 530) and great sufferer of pain (6.1, 13.88–92, 15.340). He’s larger than life, a true godlike hero for the ages.

By contrast, the heroes of the book of Judges are, well, decidedly less hero-like and certainly not godlike. The first judge, Othniel, is characterized as the ideal judge, but he’s given only three verses to describe his leadership, and even then the original language is ambiguous as to whether it was Othniel or YHWH who rescued Israel. This is intentional, suggesting that YHWH is the heroic deliverer of Israel.

When they cried out to the Lord, he raised up for them a deliverer, Othniel son of Kenaz, Caleb’s younger brother, who saved them. The Spirit of the Lord came on him, so that he became Israel’s judge and went to war. The Lord gave Cushan-Rishathaim king of Aram into the hands of Othniel, who overpowered him.

(Judg 3:9–10)

The succeeding judges are less admirable: Ehud wins through deception and assassination; Barak’s timidity results in the victory going to a woman—a result understood by the period’s patriarchal expectations as shameful to Barak; Gideon is victorious but is later known for his excess of wealth and creation of an idol for the people to worship; Jephthah defeats the Ammonites but destroys his own household; and Samson never leads the people at all, choosing instead to chase after his lusts.8

The Greek myth places the heroic onus on Odysseus, a man who is protected by the gods. Odysseus isn’t a nice character, but his intelligence and cunning propel him to safety. The lesson? Be smart, and the gods will protect you.

The Bible, however, strips humanity of any presumptions they have toward godhood; all power and faithfulness are located in YHWH, not in humans. On their own, humans will corrupt and be corrupted, as they have proved time and again. Only YHWH can truly deliver on his promises. The lesson? Be faithful, and YHWH will protect you.

Homecoming and Rest

Homecoming drives the story of Odysseus: his wife and son await his return with increasing resignation, and Odysseus weeps on Calypso’s shores as he longs to return home. He has crossed oceans, encountered monsters, been to the underworld, and survived divine opposition. Even once he is finally released, it still takes him quite a while to land on his own shores.

The book ends with Odysseus killing the last remaining rebels in vengeance for their abuse of his home. He would have kept killing, but the goddess Athena stops him, begging for peace. Nolan’s adaptation wraps it up a little more neatly: Odysseus and Penelope travel to the far west to pay their respects to the many who have died by Odysseus’ hands, leaving Ithaca in Telemachus’s capable(?) hands. There is no rest for this warrior, even after he has returned home.

By contrast, Israel had settled in the “land of rest” that had been given to them by YHWH, but they did not experience rest. The six cycles of the major judges detail Israel’s moral decline, each growing more violent than the last, and eventually ending in the aforementioned civil war. Despite being geographically “home,” Israel is spiritually homeless—a state that is emphasized by the post-exilic scribes. The scribes link Israel’s spiritual apostasy to their literal homelessness.

Odysseus crosses worlds to reach his home, and then finds himself still restless. Israel is “home,” but finds that possessing land is not the same thing as being faithful, settled people. In both cases, faithfulness leads to finding one’s home; the question is whether the protagonists (Odysseus and Israel) will be faithful and honour their God(s) above their own propensity for violent disaster.

The Gods and YHWH

It is tempting to portray the Greek gods as capricious and petty. However, some might argue that YHWH appears just so as well—kind and gentle one moment and raging with anger the next. In The Odyssey, Zeus is honoured by hospitality, and he condemns the wrongful abuse of property by Odysseus’s men and the suitors of Ithaca. His daughter, Athena, loyally protects Odysseus. The sun god, Helios, is true to his word and strikes down Odysseus’s men after they eat his cattle. Yet, the Greek gods are divided, as often warring among themselves as the humans do. Athena frequently advocates to Zeus on Odysseus’s behalf, and she intervenes against Poseidon’s wrath. The drama of the gods is just as volatile as the drama of the humans.

YHWH’s anger can also appear volatile, but it is placed within his covenant: he names himself as Israel’s only God and pledges his protection to them in exchange for their faithful worship. When they disobey the covenant, YHWH is grieved and acts according to the terms of the covenant to prompt them to return to him. This happens multiple times. For six cycles of the judges, Israel abandons YHWH, and then, when they are oppressed by other nations as YHWH said they would be if they were unfaithful, they cry out to him for deliverance. And he delivers every single time.

They forsook the Lord, the God of their ancestors, who had brought them out of Egypt. They followed and worshiped various gods of the peoples around them. They aroused the Lord’s anger because they forsook him and served Baal and the Ashtoreths. In his anger against Israel the Lord gave them into the hands of raiders who plundered them. He sold them into the hands of their enemies all around, whom they were no longer able to resist. Whenever Israel went out to fight, the hand of the Lord was against them to defeat them, just as he had sworn to them. They were in great distress. Then the Lord raised up judges, who saved them out of the hands of these raiders.

(Judg 2:12–16)

The Greek world of The Odyssey portrays the gods as unstable and competing with one another. The book of Judges portrays YHWH as the supreme God over the warring tribal gods who made a covenant with his undeserving people and will uphold it with judgment and mercy.

The Return of the King

The chaos of unmet and misplaced xenia is resolved by Odysseus’s return as king of Ithaca. This is what Penelope and Telemachus have longed for; when Odysseus returns, all will be made right. And so it happens, in bloodbath and vengeance. He judges those who have taken advantage of him and reclaims his throne. But he is a despised king, capable of only speaking the language of violence.9

Dogs! So you thought I would not come back home

from Troy? And so you fleeced my house, and raped

my slave girls, and you flirted with my wife

while I am still alive! You did not fear

the gods who live in heaven, and you thought

no man would ever come to take revenge.

Now you are trapped inside the snares of death. (22.35–41)

The book of Judges also ends in bloodshed and violence, but as a result of anarchy rather than a king reclaiming his throne. The book ends on a sombre note, with Israel longing for a king who might end Israel’s chaos.

In those days, there was no king; all the people did whatever seemed right in their own eyes.

(Judg 21:25)

The biblical canon doesn’t end there, though. The story continues in the counterpart to Judges, the book of Ruth, which tells the story of a foreign woman who is welcomed and cared for by an Israelite landowner. In these characters, Ruth, her mother-in-law Naomi, and Boaz, we see a glimpse of hope that the moral failure of Israel has not infected every person. There are yet people who are faithful to the covenant, who offer hospitality to the foreigner and welcome the stranger.

The short book of Ruth ends with the genealogy of Israel’s king, David. All is not lost during the time of the Judges; there will come a king who will set everything right. For the Christian, this king foreshadows another, greater king who will arrive to set all things right on a cosmic scale: Jesus Christ. This king will defeat his ancient enemies, Death and Violence, but he will do so by submitting to their powers rather than taking them to the sword.

So, Why is the Bible Special?

Good literature tells the story of humanity. The Odyssey is good literature, as illustrated by how it has stood the test of time. The Bible, too, is good (excellent!) literature. I’ve heard the Bible likened to a library rather than a single book. It tells the stories of God and his people across centuries and continents, and does so in a variety of ways: poetry, wisdom literature, historical prose, law, prophecy, letters.

Both The Odyssey and Judges lay bare the detestable state of corrupt humanity. When humans choose to defy the authority of God(s) and declare for themselves what is right in their eyes, chaos ensues. This is the moral lesson that both stories declare.

The Bible takes a special place in the archives of ancient literature because it tells the story of YHWH’s ongoing intervening presence in and through his people. It is a story marked by justice, mercy, and redemption even within its culturally violent context. It is a story of hope in something greater than the human self; it lifts the reader’s eyes to look on the One God who holds all things together, who created this world for good, and who is relentlessly working to restore it to wholeness even now. He is not divided; he does not become distracted by the petty ways of humans. He is single-minded in his love for his creation, and he takes on the wrath of his enemies onto himself so that all people might live.

At the bottom line, the distinctness of the Bible is that it offers hope for a better life than the one that we currently possess—one that is possible here and now, not just in heaven or the fields of Elysium. Odysseus returned home and restored his rule by killing his enemies; Judges lays the groundwork for a divine-human king who brings his faithless people “home” by allowing his enemies to kill him. The violent ends we see here in this life are not the end of the biblical story. There is hope, and that hope is for all people, not just for the returning king—for now and always.

Footnotes

1 Longman and Dillard, Introduction to the Old Testament, 135.

2 This is according to the late-dating hypothesis. Early dating of Judges places authorship with Samuel in 1000 BCE.

3 Wilson, The Odyssey, 22.

4 Ibid., 76.

5 Barry, ed., “Hospitality” in The Lexham Bible Dictionary.

6 These two tales are depicted as positive events of Israel’s deliverance from evil kings.

7 A second-rate wife in the ancient world.

8 You can read each of these stories in the book of Judges.

9 Wilson, The Odyssey, 66.