The Emily Wilson translation of The Odyssey by Homer came out in 2018, and I meant to seek it out, and then life got away from me, there was a pandemic, etc etc. and here we are. Recently I wanted to refresh my understanding of the term, xenia, and this is what led me back.

Let’s just jump right in and look at what xenia is (from wikipedia):

“Xenia consists of two basic rules:

1. The respect from hosts to guests. Hosts must be hospitable to guests and provide them with a bath, food, drink, gifts, and safe escort to their next destination. It is considered rude to ask guests questions, or even to ask who they are, before they have finished the meal provided to them.

2. The respect from guests to hosts. Guests must be courteous to their hosts and not be a threat or burden. Guests are expected to provide stories and news from the outside world. Most importantly, guests are expected to reciprocate if their hosts ever call upon them in their homes”

There’s the concept that, “any guest should be treated as if potentially a disguised divinity, due to both a deity's capacity to instil punishment or grant reward for their behaviour, who highly valued generosity and welcoming attitudes towards strangers.”

I think that over the pandemic we at least partially forgot how to cultivate xenia in private and especially public spaces. I mean, I think I did. And it’s interesting to read The Odyssey through this lens, though of course there are many other lenses. What I like about keeping a blog is that I get some funny little idea I want to follow and then realize, almost always, that there are oodles of other folks who have been doing deep dives into the subject. And one of the discoveries I made when I just started gently googling xenia, was a blog titled, Civic Renaissance. On the subject of xenia in The Odyssey, Alexandra Hudson says:

“I’ve been reflecting on how the dichotomy of justice and beneficence relate to Xenia, civility, and hospitality. I’ve been trying to devise a framework for how to think about our obligations to one another as human beings—the bare minimum being justice, not actively harming others, the above-and-beyond being beautiful acts of generosity, such as sharing your last bit of food and wine with a complete stranger. Both obligations derive from the need to respect the humanity and dignity of the other—which again, is how I conceive and define civility.”

and:

“This theme reminds me of the distinction Adam Smith makes between justice and beneficence. Justice is the minimum we owe to others, and refers to our negative duties to “do no harm.” It’s the stuff that allows a community or people group to survive. Beneficence are the “above and beyond” things we do for others — the “second mile ethic” called for in the Christian Gospels, the radical hospitality The Odyssey celebrates time and time again.”

I read The Odyssey in University and it’s certainly a different experience in this translation by Emily Wilson. The first line in the Wilson translation is “Tell me about a complicated man.” There’s a great essay on Vox by Anna North, where she talks about why it matters that the epic poem is translated by a woman:

“It offers not just a new version of the poem, but a new way of thinking about it in the context of gender and power relationships today. As Wilson puts it, “the question of who matters is actually central to what the text is about.””

North talks about how Wilson embraced the fact that there are many uncomfortable parts in the text. She lays them bare rather than trying to tidy them up or wash over them.

There are any number of ways, and lenses, through which to read the poem, but I’ve been picking it up each morning and just sort of “speed reading” it, looking for the themes of xenia. It reads quickly I think because I’ve also been imagining it as an action / adventure movie. It careens along, you know?

You probably know the gist of the tale, but here is an excerpt from Penguin’s reading guide:

“Choose any prominent theme in the Odyssey—fathers and sons; the relationships of men and women, especially husbands and wives; the responsibilities of leadership; piety; the obligations and transgressions of hosts and guests; the relation between revenge and justice—and it is possible to chart a course through the entire book with that particular theme in mind. However, each thread of the story is woven with so many others that focusing on one soon brings into view the entire warp and weft of the story’s fabric. Like its hero, Odysseus, and its heroine, Penelope, the Odyssey eludes attempts to reduce it to a few simple meanings, less because it is so ambiguous than because it is so complex.

In essence, the story of Odysseus is straightforward. A veteran of a long war, ten years away from his wife, son, and realm, he sets out to return home with his men. As the result of calamities, some brought on by himself and others beyond his control, he wanders for ten more years, along the way experiencing the breadth and depth of the world. Finally, after his men are lost, he is alone. At last he returns, kills the unwelcome guests who have laid waste his wealth and besieged his wife, seeking to marry her; resumes his role as father, husband, and son; makes peace in his kingdom; and then drops from sight as the poem abruptly comes to a stop, if not an ending.”

(The above refers to the Fagle translation).

In the intro to the Wilson translation, she points out the negative side of xenia. That while it was a responsibility to welcome and offer hospitality to any visitor, including “uninvited guests, strangers, and homeless beggars” it was possible to be taken advantage of by those who are “too ragged and dirty to deserve a welcome, or as too dangerous…” So, xenia had a dark side, which could lead to an “imaginative justification for robbing, killing, enslaving, or colonizing…” etc. Wilson guides that “the poem’s episodes can be seen as a sequence of case studies in the concept of xenia.”

What happens if the guests and the hosts have differing views of their obligations? What happens when there is a lack of integrity or good will or generosity from either side? What falls down? and how to right an unequality? What even is fairness? Hospitality? What are our obligations to create environments to receive? and what happens when our best intentions and our generosities are taken advantage of? And we’re not even taking into consideration here the vagaries of the gods in The Odyssey….

It’s interesting to read a fresh translation of a work so much a part of our culture. (It’s so embedded we might not even think about it, even though we watched the SpongeBob or Simpson’s versions). (There is a fresh version about The Return of Odysseus, starring Ralph Fiennes and Juliette Binoche recently out, I just discovered…).

As someone who very much loves a short poem, I could hardly fathom why I was initially drawn to include this epic poem in my morning reading sessions. But the more I read and think about it, I feel like it speaks to this reconfiguring of our world that’s going on in all these small and subtle ways right now. My general feeling while reading is that it is all chaos and blundering and trauma and random violence. There is posing, lies, deceit, ass-hattery. How does one return home after all that? What does Penelope weave next? What is in our control and what is absolutely not?

If you want to think further about the epic poem Slate has a podcast where the Wilson translation is discussed here.

This post might pair well with my short essay on Jane Austen’s chapter 2 of Sense and Sensibility and obligations on Sarah Emsely’s blog. You might also like to read it along with a post on Wounds, referencing Rumi’s poem, “The Guest House.” In this post, titled, Are you Okay?, you might consider the word Sonder, alongside the concept xenia. As well, this post which mentions the book The Art of Gathering by Priya Parker, might be of interest.

October 23, 2024