The Greeks have a word (or two) for it: 65, Odyssey (η Οδύσσεια) and Odysseus (Ὀδυσσεύς)

How many would-be critics of ‘The Odyssey’ know the meaning of ‘Odyssey’ or the name of Odysseus? … a sailing ship at sunset in Rethymnon (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Patrick Comerford

Christopher Nolan’s film The Odyssey is continuing to be a box-office success, and is continuing to inspire criticism and evoke responses not only from film critics but from classicists too and also from people interested in Greek culture and language.

In my reflections in prayer diary this morning, I referred to the small island of Gavdos off the south coast of Crete which is said to be the Ogygia of Calypso where Odysseus stayed for seven years. I have often looked out across to this Ogygia or Gavdos from Preveli Monastery, and so the fires that have devastated the forests and landscape in the Preveli area in the past week are particularly poignant and heart-breaking for me.

But as I was reading some of the more absurd nit-picking about Christopher Nolan’s Odyssey, I wondered too how many of those would-be classicists, including Elon Musk, with his very weird observations, have ever read The Odyssey in its original Homeric Greek, how many understand that it is epic poetry and not historical narrative, and how many actually try to understand the meaning of the name Odyssey or the name of the hero Odysseus?

The Odyssey (η Ὀδύσσεια, Odýsseia) is one of two major epics in ancient Greek literature attributed to Homer. It is one of the oldest surviving works of literature and remains popular with modern audiences.

Like the Iliad, the Odyssey is divided into 24 books. It follows Odysseus, also known in Latin as Ulysses, the heroic king of Ithaca, and his journey home after the ten-year Trojan War. His journey from Troy to Ithaca lasts an additional ten years, during which he encounters many perils and all of his crew members are killed.

During Odysseus’s long absence, he is presumed dead, leaving his wife Penelope and their son Telemachus to contend with a group of unruly suitors vying for Penelope’s hand in marriage.

The Odyssey was first composed around the eighth or seventh century BCE, and by the mid-sixth century BCE, it was part of the Greek literary canon. In antiquity, Homer’s authorship was accepted, but contemporary scholarship assumes that the Iliad and the Odyssey were composed independently, as part of long oral traditions.

In a time when illiteracy was widespread, the poem was performed for an audience by an aoidos (ἀοιδός) or skilled singer.

The key themes in the epic include those of νόστος (nostos, return or homecoming), which gives us the concept of nostalgia, wandering, ξενία (xenia, guest-friendship), testing and omens. while the Iliad centres on the exploits of soldiers and kings during the Trojan War, some groups in the Odyssey, such as women and slaves, have larger roles than in other works of ancient literature, making the poem relevant to today’s agendas.

The Odyssey is one of the most significant works of the western canon. Its first complete English translation was published in 1616 and it remains one of the most enduring narratives in literature.

Posters for ‘The Odyssey’ at Arts Picturehouse, Cambridge (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2026)

Odysseus (Ὀδυσσεύς or Ὀδυσεύς, Odysseús or Odyseús) of Greek mythology was known in Roman mythology by the Latin variant Ulysses (Ulysses or Ulixes).

Odysseus was the son of Laërtes and Anticlea, the husband of Penelope, and the father of Telemachus, Acusilaus, and Telegonus. He is cunning with an edge of pride, a liar and a storyteller, too smart by far so that he can wriggle his way out of any tight corner. He has a determination to get his homecoming at almost any cost.

He is renowned for his intellectual brilliance, guile, and versatility. The term πολῠ́τροπος (polytropos) literally means ‘man of many turns’, while some translations ‘man of twists and turns’ and ‘a complicated man’. This, in turn, gives him the epithet Ὀδυσσεύς ὁ πολύμητις (Odysseus ho polymetis), Odysseus the Cunning, μῆτις (mêtis) meaning ‘cunning intelligence’.

Ὀδυσ(σ)εύς (Odys(s)eus) is used as the form of his name starting in the epic period and through the classical period. But other forms and variations are found. In vase inscriptions, the variants include Oliseus (Ὀλισεύς), Olyseus (Ὀλυσεύς), Olysseus (Ὀλυσσεύς), Olyteus (Ὀλυτεύς), Olytteus (Ὀλυττεύς) and Ōlysseus (Ὠλυσσεύς). Other forms of his name include Oulixēs (Οὐλίξης) and Oulixeus (Οὐλιξεύς).

But the etymology of his name remains unknown. Ancient authors link his name to the Greek verbs ὀδύσσομαι (odussomai) ‘to be wroth against, to hate’; ὀδύρομαι (oduromai), ‘to lament, bewail’; or even to ὄλλυμι (ollumi) ‘to perish’, ‘to be lost’.

Homer relates the name to various forms of this verb in references and puns. In Book 19 of the Odyssey, where Odysseus’s early childhood is recounted, Euryclea asks the boy’s grandfather Autolycus to name him. Euryclea seems to suggest a name like Πολυάρητος (Polyaretos), ‘for he has much been prayed for’.

But Autolycus, ‘apparently in a sardonic mood’, decided to give the child another name recalling ‘his own experience in life’: ‘Since I have been angered (ὀδυσσάμενος odyssamenos) with many, both men and women, let the name of the child be Odysseus’.

Odysseus also receives the patronymic epithet Laertiades (Λαερτιάδης), ‘son of Laërtes’.

In Latin, he was known as Ulixēs or Ulyssēs, but the origins of the Latin form have different explanations. However, I sometimes wonder whether James Joyce’s great work Ulysses would have the same impact if he had named it Odysseus or even The Odyssey.

For my reflections on Christopher Nolan’s film The Odyssey, see this posting on 21 July 2027.

For the word Ὀδύσσεια (Odyssey) alone, see an earlier posting in this series: The Greeks have a word for it: 39, Odyssey, Ὀδύσσεια (7 May 2024).

A poster at the bus station in Rethymnon reminded me I was setting out on an Odyssey (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Previous words in this series:

1, Neologism, Νεολογισμός.

2, Welcoming the stranger, Φιλοξενία.

3, Bread, Ψωμί.

4, Wine, Οίνος and Κρασί.

5, Yogurt, Γιαούρτι.

6, Orthodoxy, Ορθοδοξία.

7, Sea, Θᾰ́λᾰσσᾰ.

8,Theology, Θεολογία.

9, Icon, Εἰκών.

10, Philosophy, Φιλοσοφία.

11, Chaos, Χάος.

12, Liturgy, Λειτουργία.

13, Greeks, Ἕλληνες or Ρωμαίοι.

14, Mañana, Αύριο.

15, Europe, Εὐρώπη.

16, Architecture, Αρχιτεκτονική.

17, The missing words.

18, Theatre, θέατρον, and Drama, Δρᾶμα.

19, Pharmacy, Φᾰρμᾰκείᾱ.

20, Rhapsody, Ραψῳδός.

21, Holocaust, Ολοκαύτωμα.

22, Hygiene, Υγιεινή.

23, Laconic, Λακωνικός.

24, Telephone, Τηλέφωνο.

25, Asthma, Ασθμα.

26, Synagogue, Συναγωγή.

27, Diaspora, Διασπορά.

28, School, Σχολείο.

29, Muse, Μούσα.

30, Monastery, Μοναστήρι.

31, Olympian, Ολύμπιος.

32, Hypocrite, Υποκριτής.

33, Genocide, Γενοκτονία.

34, Cinema, Κινημα.

35, autopsy and biopsy

36, Exodus, ἔξοδος

37, Bishop, ἐπίσκοπος

38, Socratic, Σωκρατικὸς

39, Odyssey, Ὀδύσσεια

40, Practice, πρᾶξις

41, Idiotic, Ιδιωτικός

42, Pentecost, Πεντηκοστή

43, Apostrophe, ἀποστροφή

44, catastrophe, καταστροφή

45, democracy, δημοκρατία

46, ‘Αρχή, beginning, Τέλος, end

47, ‘Αποκάλυψις, Apocalypse

48, ‘Απόκρυφα, Apocrypha

49, Ἠλεκτρον (Elektron), electric

50, Metamorphosis, Μεταμόρφωσις

51, Bimah, βῆμα

52, ἰχθύς (ichthýs) and ψάρι (psari), fish.

53, Τὰ Βιβλία (Ta Biblia), The Bible

54, Φῐλοξενῐ́ᾱ (Philoxenia), true hospitality

55, εκκλησία (ekklesia), the Church

56, ναός (naos) and ἱερός (ieros), a church

57, Χριστούγεννα (Christougenna), Christmas

58, ἐπιφάνεια (epipháneia), θεοφάνεια, (theopháneia), Epiphany and Theophany

59, Ζέφυρος (Zéphuros), the West Wind

60, Αύριο (Avrio), Tomorrow

61, καλημέρα (κaliméra), ‘Good Morning’, and καλαμάρι, κalamári, ‘squid’

62, Ελευθερία ή θάνατος, ‘Freedom or Death’

63, Ποδόσφαιρο, ‘Football’

64, καφές (coffee), Φραπές (frappé)

65, Odyssey (η Οδύσσεια) and Odysseus (Ὀδυσσεύς)

Series to be continued

Penelope waiting for Odysseus … Μαριάννα Βαλλιάνου, Η επιστροφή, Mariánna Valliánou, ‘The Return’

Daily prayer in Ordinary Time 2026: 89, Tuesday 4 August 2026

Looking out from Preveli Monastery in Crete towards the island of Gavdos, said to be the Ogygia of Calypso where Odysseus stayed for seven years (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Patrick Comerford

We are continuing in Ordinary Time in the Church Calendar and the week began with the Ninth Sunday after Trinity (Trinity IX, 2 August 2026). The calendar of the Church of England in Common Worship today recalls Jean-Baptiste Vianney (1786-1859), Curé d’Ars and Spiritual Guide.

Before today begins, I am taking some quiet time this morning to give thanks, for reflection, prayer and reading in these ways:

1, today’s Gospel reading;

2, a reflection on the Gospel reading;

3, a prayer from the USPG prayer diary;

4, the Collects and Post-Communion prayer of the day.

‘And if one blind person guides another, both will fall into a pit’ (Matthew 15: 14) … looking into the crater at the top of Mount Vesuvius (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Matthew 15: 1-2,10-14 (NRSVA):

1 Then Pharisees and scribes came to Jesus from Jerusalem and said, 2 ‘Why do your disciples break the tradition of the elders? For they do not wash their hands before they eat.’

10 Then he called the crowd to him and said to them, ‘Listen and understand: 11 it is not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person, but it is what comes out of the mouth that defiles.’ 12 Then the disciples approached and said to him, ‘Do you know that the Pharisees took offence when they heard what you said?’ 13 He answered, ‘Every plant that my heavenly Father has not planted will be uprooted. 14 Let them alone; they are blind guides of the blind. And if one blind person guides another, both will fall into a pit.’

Homer, who is traditionally said to have been blind, tells of the 10-year return journey of Odysseus to his home in Ithaka (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Today’s Reflections:

‘Let them alone; they are blind guides of the blind. And if one blind person guides another, both will fall into a pit’ (Matthew 15: 14).

There were two choices in the lectionary for Gospel readings at the Eucharist yesterday (Monday 3 August): Matthew 14: 13-21, or Matthew 14: 22-36. The first choice was also the Gospel reading on Sunday, and so in my reflections yesterday I looked at the second choice (Matthew 14: 22-36).

Once again, the lectionary offers two choices in the Gospel readings at the Eucharist today (Tuesday 4 August): Matthew 14: 22-36, which I read and reflected on yesterday, or Matthew 15: 1-2, 10-14, which I am reading and reflecting on this morning.

At a surface level, today’s Gospel passage is about religious rituals, purification rites and liturgical niceties. However, the challenge in this reading is a question of pure religious rather than ritual purification: What defiles a person? Is this a liturgical nicety or a moral problem?

It is far too easy for me to want to be seen to do the right thing, rather than doing the right thing, whether or not anyone sees what I am doing, or even when those nearby are blind to what I am doing … or even to what I am not doing.

What leads me to do the right thing? Am I too easily led by others? Do I blindly follow the demands of others and allow their expectations to lead me into a pit, into a moral abyss, dragging others down with me in the process? And once I am there, how can I get out of that dark cave?

Plato’s ‘Allegory of the Cave’ (The Republic, Book VII) imagines a deep, dark cave in which some chained prisoners are forced to look at a wall. Behind them flickers the pale light of a fire, and between the fire and the prisoners, various objects cast a shadow onto the wall.

The prisoners, born into this condition, know only the shadows and think that they are all there is to the world. And so, they become shadow experts, and spend all of their days classifying, studying and examining them closely.

One day, a prisoner breaks free. He rushes from the cave and finds himself out in the dazzling sun. After savouring all of the marvels of the world, she is overcome with pity, and drags herself back into the cave to save her friends. But since her eyes are still dazzled from the bright sun, she cannot see so well in the dark cave. When she tells the prisoners of the wonders to be seen outside, they mock her inability to see shadows, tell her she is a fool, and threaten to kill her.

Plato’s story is a metaphor, telling us how we need to look behind the first impressions and what appears to be the case to see the truth of the matter. We need to exercise introspection and to examine our thoughts with reasoning and the bright glare of truth. We cannot let the blind lead the blind.

Those particular Pharisees and scribes seem to be more worried about what they have not seen the disciples doing on occasion rather than commending the good they may actually be doing, noticed or unnoticed, day-by-day.

Moral leadership often comes not in the form of great tomes or well-argued books on ethics and philosophy, but in the form of the expectations that are laid on us or projected onto us from within our own peer group, from our contemporaries, from those we do not want to let down, from those we seldom question yet often follow blindly.

It is easier to follow those pressures blindly than risk finding ourselves in the dark and alone simply for doing the right thing for no other reason than it is the right thing to do.

I was talking recently with someone about Chrisopher Nolan’s new film Odyssey, which is continuing to take cinemas everywhere by storm. In a witty response, that person joked: ‘It’s no wonder it took him 10 years to get home. Homer was blind. If I was following his directions I’d be straying take 10 years to get home too.’

In his reflections on ‘Thought for the Day’ on Radio 4 about two weeks ago (24 July 2026), the Revd Dr Giles Fraser talked about some of those blind alleys and diversions that delay Odysseus and frustrate his epic journey home.

On the island of Ogygia, the beautiful nymph Calypso tries to entice him to stay with her, promising he would never age, never die. She offers eternal life, youth and freedom from pain, danger and death if he stays with her on Ogygia. And yet, after seven years, Odysseus eventually refuses the temptation to achieve immortality, preferring risk and death over immortality and agelessness, refuses the goddess and chooses to leave, fully aware that his mortal home of Ithaca is exposed to risk, decay, and death.

Giles Fraser refers to an essay on why Odysseus is right to refuse this, in which the American philosopher Professor Martha Nussbaum of the University of Chicago argues that there are some things that the immortal gods are not able to do that mortal human beings are: not least amongst them is to show courage. If I cannot risk everything because I cannot die, then how could I possibly be courageous?

What sort of life would Odysseus have if he stays with Calypso on her perfect deathless island, and gave up any need for all his craft and resourcefulness?

‘And what would love mean’, he asks ‘if you could never put anything on the line for others? That’s why we cheer Odysseus on as he decides to refuse Calypso her seemingly unrefusable offer.’

Martha Nussbaum, who is Jewish, suggests that there is something about this refusal of invulnerability that explains one of the key features of Christian theology: of God becoming human, of God who is prepared to suffer and die in the name of love.

‘What is attractive about both Odysseus and Jesus is that they are prepared to have skin in the game, which is pretty much the very definition of incarnation’, Giles Fraser says.

He suggests that to live beyond the realm of suffering and death would be to live in a way that is no longer human – without the possibility of heroism, without the possibility of risking all for love. ‘Why is it, for instance, that so often in Greek mythology, perfect gods fall in love with imperfect human beings rather than their own kind? Because fragile humanity can exhibit exciting virtues, risky love-soaked heroism in the way that the gods just cannot.’

Of course, he agrees, none of us wants those we love to be taken from us. Yet also, death is what makes life valuable and precious. As the late Queen Elizabeth put it: ‘Grief is the price we pay for love’.

What Odysseus discovers on Calypso’s Island – often identified by Greeks with the small island of Gavdos, off Preveli and the south coast of Crete – is that without death, life will be drained of its meaning.

Allowing those who are morally blind to lead us because it seems to be the safe thing to do, allowing our priorities in life to be dictated by appearances and being seen to do what is acceptable so that we live risk-free lives, our lives will be drained of meaning and of love too.

‘It is not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person, but it is what comes out of the mouth that defiles’(Matthew 15: 11) … street art in Dublin (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Today’s Prayers (Tuesday 4 August 2026):

In my prayers this morning, I am praying for the people of Preveli, Aghia Galini, and other areas south of Rethymnon, who hve seen their natural surroundings destroyed in the recent wildfires that have swept acorss their parts of Crete over the past week or so. In difficult circumstances, may they find wisdom, resilience and hope. And I give thanks too for the two firefighters who died risking their lives so that other people might live.

In Pray with the World Church, the prayer diary of the Anglican mission agency USPG (United Society Partners in the Gospel), the theme this week (2-8 August 2026, pp 24-25), is ‘Faith Under Pressure in Nicaragua’. This theme was introduced on Sunday with a Reflection by the Most Revd Juan David Alvarado, Bishop of El Salvador and Primate of the Province of the Anglican Church in Central America.

The USPG prayer diary today (Tuesday 4 August 2026) invites us to pray:

Gracious God, uphold Bishop Harold Dixon and all clergy serving in difficult circumstances. Give them wisdom, resilience, and hope in their ministry.

The Collect of the Day:

Almighty God,
who sent your Holy Spirit
to be the life and light of your Church:
open our hearts to the riches of your grace,
that we may bring forth the fruit of the Spirit
in love and joy and peace;
through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord,
who is alive and reigns with you,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.

The Post Communion Prayer:

Holy Father,
who gathered us here around the table of your Son
to share this meal with the whole household of God:
in that new world where you reveal the fullness of your peace,
gather people of every race and language
to share in the eternal banquet of Jesus Christ our Lord.

Additional Collect:

Gracious Father,
revive your Church in our day,
and make her holy, strong and faithful,
for your glory’s sake
in Jesus Christ our Lord.

Yesterday’s reflections

Continued tomorrow

Plato’s ‘Allegory of the Cave’ tells of the difficulty of the blind agreeing to be led by the once-blind (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Scripture quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible: Anglicised Edition copyright © 1989, 1995, National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide. http://nrsvbibles.org