Homer is an octavist: The Iliad 9–16

A summary of the second octave, preceded by thoughts of the USA as new Olympos

The Trojan spy Dolon is caught by Diomedes and Odysseus on a nocturnal spy mission of their own.

See my Homer introduction. See my summary of Books 1–8.

I never had an interest in ancient mythology as a kid. I read Homer as a freshman in college, and the epics made a not insignificant impression on me, though I never picked them up again until a couple years ago. As I follow the news these days, however, and as current events become more and more “enchanted,” as they say, I can’t help but feel like The Iliad, of all things, is startlingly relevant to understanding our world and how it works.

I’ll give you a taste of what I mean. During the post-election transition of 2024, I saw video of a Ukrainian soldier (perhaps it was an officer) responding to something Elon Musk had said about striking a peace deal between Ukraine and Russia. This headstrong warrior was clearly so opposed to the idea of any compromise for the sake of armistice, so consumed by hatred of enemies, he would not hear anything that did not justify his calm, smirking conviction. Elon Musk must be brainwashed by Putin’s propaganda, in this man’s mind, if he wasn’t all for fighting to the death like a berserker, even if at the end there’s no Ukraine left to liberate. There was something more than human at work behind his eyes. He was as though possessed by Eris, the goddess of Hate, a prime engine of war, as revealed by Homer in The Iliad, Book Eleven (see below).

But Eris is sent to the Trojan plain by Zeus, lord and leader of the Olympian pantheon, and who are those Olympians today? Who since the Bush Sr. administration has been gradually and systematically (and needlessly) provoking this war into existence? Who are the listless, lusty, vain, self-centered principalities in charge of whether wars happen or not? Zeus and his family aren’t around anymore as possible answers to that question. They were dethroned by the Nazarene, even as they dethroned those before them. They unavoidably fell prey to that which propped them up in the first place, the succession myth common to all ancient religions apart from that of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

Among the Hellenes, it was Ouranos and Gaia (Heaven and Earth) who begat the Titans led by Kronos — and son Kronos, at the suggestion of mother Gaia, overthrew father Ouranos — learning in the process, moreover, that because he overthrew his father, so his children would overthrow him. The prophecy fulfilled itself, as Kronos’s subsequent abusive behavior provoked the revolt against him, accomplished by his son Zeus. All the pagan gods have a backstory of overthrowing a previous god because they all follow the same demonic pattern of rebellion. And they all eventually are overthrown by the original God, the Creator of heaven and earth, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. This occurs when the Church, the Body of Christ, filled with the Holy Spirit, to the glory of God the Father, overthrows the worship of false gods and installs in the hearts of men the worship of the true God instead. This victory, a victory of love, is once and for all, but because we are invested with free will for love’s sake, we are given opportunity to participate in the final victory or not. The drama of our repentance, and of God’s longsuffering patience with us, fills in the time since Pentecost. Eventually a new cycle of the succession myth opens up, one that occurs not within the ranks of fallen immaterial spirits, but within the ranks of enfleshed spirits — that is, within the human soul and within human society.

We reenact the successive demonic overthrows of God by worshiping instead our own mind, our nous — that’s Kronos, by analogy — and our own reason, our logos, our ratio — that’s Zeus. When I talk about the worship of reason, I mean nothing different from what Fr. Seraphim Rose describes in his Survival Course summarizing the apostasy of Christian culture in the West, so I refer readers there. With the worship of capital‑R Reason comes a plethora of secondary cults as society fragments: worship of the imagination, of the senses, of romance, of satire, of martial arts, etc., and these fulfill the pattern of the many Olympian gods and their offspring. You could probably name a litany of spiritual sins analogous to the Titans, as well; the religions of India, for example, probably fit those patterns. But in the age of antichrist, the god of Reason has ruled the world, supposing to have overthrown the original God just as the pagan gods before him. Especially in the Counter-Enlightenment, however, we see Reason itself being overthrown and succeeded by its children, the lower passions desire and anger. Thus this psychological rendition of the succession myth results in the pathocracy I have described in my political articles (starting here). Zeus could not last, and neither will Reason. The disintegration of Reason’s authority has been a drawn-out process, giving humans of this era plenty opportunity for repentance before the ultimate “return of the King,” when history attains its purpose by being swallowed up by the eternal victory already revealed to us. That’s the whole purpose of history: the opportunity for repentance and the advent of Christ in our hearts.

Detail from The Apotheosis of George Washington, fresco by Constantino Brumidi in the dome of the Capitol Building in Washington, D.C. (1865).

Meanwhile though, according to this analogy my own nation, the United States of America, the greatest accomplishment of the Enlightenment cult of Reason, has become the new Mt. Olympos. The alarming rapidity to how Trump’s incoming administration recently (even before inauguration) forced a ceasefire in Gaza — well, for one thing, it utterly damns the Biden administration for allowing the destruction to go on for so long — but it also proves that American political power over the rest of the world is downright Olympian in prowess. All the while, we Americans live in our comfortable homes, oceans removed from the fighting we control with mere whims determined by political processes guided entirely by the same vanity and passions observed in the old Olympian mythology. The pattern of rebellion is playing out in a humanist context, so it’s humans now playing the roles formerly played by fallen spirits. Christ won us the freedom from the fallen spirits’ influence and revealed in human nature the potential for divinity, and this is how we’re using it, by repeating the patterns of the fallen angels’ self-destructive pride.

When in Book Eight of The Iliad, where I left off in my summary, Zeus puts his foot down and banishes the other gods from the Trojan War, confining them to their homes on Olympos, I can’t help picturing their house arrest taking place in a gated community of McMansions, some soulless suburban plan where they’re “free” to pursue all the vanity of their passions, and yet confined by a system of tyranny — just like us Americans. Are we sensitive to our nation’s war-profiteering? Yeah, a little. But also, not really. As an American I find the psychology of the gods in The Iliad so damn relatable. It’s no different from American politics! In Book Five, the hero Diomedes is empowered by the goddess Athene to injure both Aphrodite and Ares, to draw actual immortal blood. Judged rationally, this story doesn’t make any sense, but seen analogically it sure does. The attacks of 9/11 were such an event, when the US’s illicit meddling in the world splashed back in its face and the mortals were able to draw actual American blood. Our own soil for once was bloodied a little, albeit our immortal power over the world bore no impact from the injury. The rage with which we have responded has been verifiably Olympian, every drone strike like a thunderbolt from Zeus. But the power of “immortal” Olympos will fall apart eventually, no doubt. We will be overthrown. But if the pattern holds (and when doesn’t it?), it will be the Nazarene that does it.

From John Lennon to Francis Ford Coppola, it has been common to see the United States of America as the new Roman Empire. My thinking now is that that assessment is off. The level of hubris, made possible by Christ’s sacrifice but in complete betrayal of it, is underestimated. We’re the Olympians. The whole world is the empire — we’re the pantheon that rules it.

On that note, we go on to the summary, the second octave of the Iliad, picking up with Book Nine....