Honour and Conflict: A Study of the Iliad

 

For Jamie, who shares this world with me and encourages me to look a little deeper.

The Iliad, attributed to Homer, is often introduced as a story of the Trojan War. But this framing can be a bit misleading. Rather than presenting a complete account of the war, prioritising military strategy or political outcome, it offers a brief and volatile episode, using it to examine the structures that govern both individuals and collective action.

This piece focuses particularly on Book 1, where the dispute between Achilles and Agamemnon establishes the central tensions of the epic. The opening invocation, ‘Rage, goddess, sing the rage of Peleus’ son Achilles’, immediately centres the poem on a single, destructive emotion, suggesting that its primary concern is not in the war itself, but in the human conflicts that drive it. 

What emerges is a world in which conflict is not simply external, but internal, rooted in competing claims to honour, authority and recognition. The Greek army, seemingly united against Troy, is shown from the outset to be dependent on fragile agreements that can quickly collapse. 

With this narrowed focus, the Iliad reveals something broader: that war is not sustained by strength alone, but by systems of value that must be continually upheld. Authority must be asserted, but also acknowledged. Honour must be recognised, but is always vulnerable to challenge. 

The Iliad begins not with unity, but with division, and in doing so, reframes war as something sustained not only by force, but by fragile social structures.

The Hearth and Threshold: Greek Domestic Religion

 

Religious practice in ancient Greece is often understood through its most visible forms: large temples, state-sponsored festivals, and public sacrifice. These elements were central to civic identity and reinforced relationships between communities and the gods. However, they represent only one part of a broader religious system. 

Alongside public religion existed a quieter, more constant form of worship that took place within the household. This domestic religion was not organised by a priesthood or governed by strict schedules. Instead, it was maintained through routine actions carried out by members of the home, often without formal structure or written instruction. 

While there were many systems of worship in place for the multitude of gods, I would like to look deeper at two deities: Hestia and Hermes. Their importance did not stem from dramatic mythological narratives, but from their direct connection to essential aspects of daily life. 

Hestia was tied to the hearth, the fixed centre of the home, while Hermes was associated with movement, exchange and the crossing of boundaries. Together, they formed a framework that connected everyday activities, cooking, eating, leaving and returning, with a widely understood religious context. 

Examining their worship provides a clearer understanding of how religion functioned at a practical level in ancient Greece, embedded within the physical and social structure of the household. 

Inheritance or Imitation: A Study of Hellenism in the Modern World

 

Hellenism is often encountered as something complete. Preserved in marble, studied through myth, and framed as one of the intellectual and artistic foundations of the Western world. It appears distant, contained within ruins, texts, and curated museum spaces, where it can be observed but not participated in. 

Yet this impression is misleading. 

Hellenism was never static, not purely symbolic. It was lived through repetition, embedded in both public ceremony and private routine, and sustained through continuous interaction between people and the divine. A pattern of behaviour rather than an abstract ideology. 

What complicates this image further is that Hellenism has not remained in the past. In recent decades, it has re-emerged as a practised tradition. This revival is not uniform; it exists across different contexts, shaped by varying motivations, interpretations, and identities.

It is within this revival that tension has begun to surface. Discussions are being raised to highlight a growing divide between those who view Hellenism as a form of cultural inheritance and those who approach it as an open, accessible spiritual path. 

This tension has led me to a more complex question. 

If Hellenism is both a religion and a cultural identity, what happens when it is practised beyond the culture that produced it?