Watching Christopher Nolan’s “The Odyssey” in a packed AMC theater in Century City, I found myself wondering how a rabbi might interpret one of the foundational works of Western civilization.
What would a rabbi think about how the gods are depicted in the Greek epic poem?
To what extent does the Greek concept of hospitality recall the Jewish commandment of Hachnasat orchim (“welcoming guests”)?
Rabbi Brad Artson, an author, theologian and the Goldstine Distinguished Scholar at American Jewish University, hadn’t yet seen Nolan’s film adaptation as of press time. But two years ago, the self-described lover of ancient literature reread Homer’s “The Odyssey” and “The Iliad,” two of antiquity’s most influential works. With Nolan’s film introducing the ancient story to a new generation of moviegoers, Artson was eager to discuss how “The Odyssey” both resembles and diverges from the values of the Hebrew Bible.
Despite their differences, Homer and the Hebrew Bible share more common ground than many readers might expect, Artson said.
“So, in both, there’s sacrifices, there’s tribal identity, there’s a concern for honor and dignity. And then there are these huge, glaring differences that make the Torah and the Hebrew Bible of eternal worth on a different level.”
One of the major differences, Artson said, stems from what’s driving the gods — Poseidon, Zeus and others — of the Greek epics.
In Homer’s texts, “the gods are fickle, and they don’t have standards. And what standards they have, have to do with their own popularity and their fragile egos, rather than any sense of righteousness or justice or loyalty,” he said. “And the God of Israel is portrayed very differently. The God of Israel is constantly calling people to care for the widow and the orphan, and to live lives of righteousness and to honor their friendships and their business dealings and the Sabbath. And that’s a very different choice.”
Artson also underlined an intriguing point of convergence between the Greek and Jewish traditions: hospitality.
One of the central values in “The Odyssey” is xenia, the sacred obligation to welcome strangers. Entire episodes turn on whether hosts extend generosity or cruelty to travelers — which immediately reminds one of Abraham, who, in Genesis, rushes to welcome three strangers into his tent, offering them food, water and rest before he even knows they’re not ordinary people but angels.
In other words, the motivations are different — Greek hospitality is rooted in honor and custom, while Abraham’s is rooted in covenant and ethical responsibility — but both traditions recognize that how we treat the vulnerable says something essential about who we are.
Another major difference between the Hebrew Bible and Homer’s “The Odyssey” is to what extent everyday people factor into the narratives. Unlike Homer’s heroes, the central figures of the Hebrew Bible are generally not born into royalty.
“In Homer’s texts, no commoner ever speaks — even the slaves who speak are kidnapped royalty,” Artson said. “So, there’s a pervasive notion not only in Homer, but in all ancient literature, that no commoner is worthy of any attention, which just highlights how radical the Hebrew Bible is. The God of Israel speaks to a whole people, and none of our leaders are royal until we get to the house of [Kings] Saul and David, and then they’re quite flawed, right? But the prophets don’t come from any lineage; they’re just inspired people.”
In Homer’s world, greatness is inherited. In the Torah, it’s often bestowed.
“Moses doesn’t come from lineage,” Artson says. “He’s an inspired person. And what moves him to leadership is again his commitment to compassion and love and justice and righteousness, and that makes him worthy of God’s concern. And that God chooses a whole people, including the widows and the orphans and the children and the women — everybody is a child of God, and that would strike ancient ears as completely radical and unexpected.”
Nolan’s film will undoubtedly introduce millions of people to “The Odyssey.” But for some, it will prompt a different kind of journey: a return to a familiar story albeit with the habits of Jewish learning.
