The Absence of an Archetype: Looking Beyond Oedipus and Jesus

The mythology of the West is as celestial and infinite as there are celestial bodies in the infinite cosmos. To elevate one over the other is a judgmental endeavor, for with selection comes a simultaneous omission. Regardless of this, it can safely be asserted that within the mythologies of the West two notably stand out (though not necessarily above): the myths of Oedipus of Thebes and Jesus of Nazareth. These two figures are by and large two of the most widely discussed figures—mythically and historically—throughout Western history, and they will occupy our time once again. Fusing these two characters’ stories together will provide insight to how the infanticide and patricide within Oedipus’ and Jesus’ stories are imagistic portrayals of how archetypal forces can never been fully signified through the re-presenting symbol embodying archetypal energy. That is, this interpretative exploration will unveil how the West’s fascination of the symbolic characters in these foundational myths have left us longing for more, longing for an Antigone to bury the literalistic-short-sighted-mentality that has long governed the Western mind.

             Criticisms of Oedipus and Jesus are commonplace in the depth-psychology movement, yet a critical look at the paralleling features of infanticide and patricide and the redeeming qualities within this murderous scheme has yet to be exercised. The vast chasm of time and culture that separates these myths is joined not through an interpretative bridge, but by starting from each side of the gorge and journeying to each myth’s depth. When one reaches this depth, it becomes obvious that there is a brook that runs through the quarry, and it is in the brook we must trod; these stories can guide us to life-nourishing water for the soul, if we so choose to baptize ourselves in its depths.

            Marked differences exist between the nature of these stories. Information regarding the socio-historical context of Oedipus’ scene is overly lacking, while there is several extant documents and a mass of historical work done on the context of Jesus’ story. Oedipus is mostly looked to as a mythical figure, while Jesus is looked to as both historical and mythical, depending on one’s predispositions. Oedipus’ parents are explicitly noted as being biological (Roche, 69-70), while Jesus’ biological background is hidden behind a mythical birth narrative (Matt. 1.18-5). These discontinuities, and many more, exist and deserve attention, though not specifically ours; to do so would mislead the direction being taken here. These two myths of the West collide and coincide in a similar archetypal fashion that must be taken seriously if we are to take our myths seriously.

            The stories begin on their own side of the gaping gap: in Oedipus the King Apollo prophecies Oedipus killing his father Laius (Roche 24); in John’s gospel YHWH sent his only son, Jesus, to die for the sins of humanity (John 3.16). Oedipus is predicted to kill his father, while Jesus is brought into the world to be killed by his “father”. The forecast for these two figures seems opposite, however they share the storm of infanticide. That each story has infanticide and patricide demands that attention be given to this parent-child relationship and what that divine relationship infers. Before jumping that far, though, it needs to be asked: Why is it that each story has a son as the paradigmatic character and not the parent? What does the need for a son suggest?

The need for a son: the absence of a father

            Oedipus and Jesus enter their given stories with an identity of being sons. Oedipus is most often viewed only as the son of Laius. This seems understandable considering that most of the interpretative work has focused on the infanticide/patricide events that take place between Oedipus and Laius. However, there is reason to believe that Oedipus’ social status as tyrranos would create a new socio-political identity that involved a divine father-son relationship. Early in the Oedipus play, Oedipus is regarded as the one who is “the leader of men and consummate atoner to the powers above” (Roche 24). That is, while Oedipus is not necessarily equal with the gods, he nevertheless knows, unlike any other human, how to use the powers of the gods. This less-than-godlike stature is questioned later in the play when the chorus questions Oedipus’ origination: “Who was your mother child? Which of the dryads, Perennially young, did Pan of the mountains have? Or was it Apollo haunting high Savannas?” (66).  In his Oedipus and the Fabrication of the Father, Pietro Pucci suggests that, “…Oedipus is not simply favored by the gods but their son; now his solution of the Sphinx’s riddle becomes easy to explain. He descends from Apollo” (130). Oedipus’ social identity derives not only from his biological father Laius, but as one who comes from and represents Apollo. Jesus shares this dual identity in that his is one that is identified as the son of Joseph  (Matt. 1.16) and YHWH (John 3.16). 

            This is not surprising. In the ancient world those who were recognized as king, whether that kingship be official (Oedipus) or subversive (Jesus), were often socially recognized as a son of god, an agent by who god would work through to exercise his reign on earth; a tangible, imaginary as it is, combination of heaven on earth. It is common knowledge in classical studies that Octavius Augustus was not only emperor, but was in fact believed to be Zeus’ agent to bring peace (Crossan, God and Empire 107-8, 147-48). H. J. Rose comments that the Hellenistic period was, “…a time when the deifying of kings was a commonplace, often hardly more than a piece of formal loyalty” (383). The theology of the ancient world was seen not only in their stories and writings, but in how society practiced their imperial-theology. It is suggested, then, that given the suggestive statements mentioned above in each story it is highly likely that these leaders of nation, city, or revolutionary band of renegades were interpreted as embodied representatives by which the god of their nation, city, or group would act through. Put in depth-psychological terms, this given person was acknowledged as truly living out an archetypal force that was socially acknowledged as paradigmatic, authoritative, and, as will be shown later, unfortunately worshiped.

            Hence, according to the stories as they are preserved in their textual form, Apollo and YHWH designate particular males in the earthly scene as a son, and it is the son that represents the father. To offer a representation of one’s self suggests that the actual figure is absent, or at least perceived to be so, hence the son functions as the offered symbol. The historical scene for Sophocles’ Oedipus and Christianity’s Jesus are analogous, and these scenes unveil a similar need for a symbol, a son, to re-present a way of being in the world that provided a paradigm specifically pertinent for those historical moments. Before venturing into the paradigmatic nature of each character, it is beneficial here to recap the historical situation in which these stories were presented.

 

Oedipus and Jesus in Context

            To speak of the historical matrix of Oedipus is futile, for there is little to no extant evidence supporting the historical figure of Oedipus, much less the socio-historical milieu. Sophocles, then, is the beginning point for understanding the context behind Oedipus, for it is Sophocles’ who is telling this story in a particular way that will speak to a particular audience in a specific historical time. Sophocles’ play of Oedipus was offered to Greece shortly after the plague of 430BCE. The effects of this plague were not only agricultural and social devastation, but psychologically as well. As Christine Downing notes, the plague, coupled with the social and political disruptions, created “a period of transition, turmoil, and war” (284). Athens was a city-state of confusion; social structures were being deconstructed and human understanding regarding man’s rational responsibilities and the intervention of divine activity were deeply interrogated. The character Oedipus, then, served as a signifier in the absence of Apollo, the absence of a father, and, “…when the figure of the father is felt to be absent, unable to present itself with his law…then the society is endangered; then confusion and chaos ensue” (Pucci, 4). The father Apollo being absent, seen in Athenian disruption, signifies for the need to send a symbol (Oedipus) to re-present Apollo.

            The social scenes of Jesus’ entry are similar to what we find in 5^th century BCE Athens. John Crossan presents example after example of Jewish revolution and riotousness during the 1^st century BCE and CE in Crossan’s The Historical Jesus: the Life of a Mediterranean Jew (168-206). Rome exercised its fierce imperialistic power over Judean territory and this presented the Jewish nation with social, political, and theological frustration. If Israel was the nation of YHWH, and YHWH was the one true God, how was it that Jews were enslaved once again as if they were in Egypt? And now it was in their own country?! The lack of political rule by Jewish religious leaders immediately gave way to existential and social insecurity in matters of finding favor with YHWH. With this background in mind, Jesus should be viewed, like Oedipus, as a symbol embodying an archetypal force (YHWH) to signify how one was to restore the presence of the father in a time when the presence of YHWH was altogether questioned. In both cases the embodying agent offers blessings and a new mode of existence, not only through their lives, but in and through their deaths.

Infanticide: signifier’s death wish on its on sign

James Hillman suggests in he and Kerenyi’s Oedipus Variations that infanticide “is a mythic manner of imagining literalism” (125). Hillman takes this notion and applies it to Laius and Oedipus’ relationship; however, why would Apollo prophesy patricide when this would in turn cause Laius to react as he did? Why would YHWH send his one and only son in to the world (and, recall that this divine conception nearly caused Joseph to leave the Mary) only to kill him? Hillman’s proposed notion can be extended beyond his particular application, as the death wish on the child stems not only from a biological father (as in the case of Laius), but also a metaphysical father. That is, it is in its nature for the archetypal energy to make itself known, and it resorts to iconic imagery (a son) to signify its nature. The archetype is seen through the symbol, but the archetypal force refuses to be literalized; therefore, the symbolizing character must certainly literally die, less the energy the character embodies be misconstrued as actually belonging to the characters themselves. It is proposed here that the West’s foundational myths are communicating this, in subversive and divine ways.

In each story, the archetypal force is certainly experienced through the iconic son, as Oedipus and Jesus both acquire hero-like status amongst their contemporaries.  The townspeople of Thebes look to Oedipus, “leader of men and consummate atoner to the powers above” (Roche 24), to bring healing to their famished lands. Likewise, “The news about [Jesus] spread throughout all Syria; and they brought to him all who were ill… and he healed them. Large crowds followed him from Galilee and the Decapolis and Jerusalem and Judea and from beyond the Jordan” (Matt. 4.24-25). Things seem to be moving along nicely. Each figure establishes himself as a worthy leader and does what he can to bring healing to those who seek. However, modern interpreters prove that modern seekers do not often find what they often seek in either figure—a true inversion of Jesus’ “seek and you will find” (Matt. 7.7).

Oedipus and Jesus were both paradigmatic characters that were to be symbols of an archetypal signifier, they were not to be taken literally. Both were to represent, to re-present, the image of their given god, yet in each case their supposed re-presentation is literalized as the representation and the iconic nature of the son is lost. Followers of Oedipus and Jesus make an idol out of an icon and consequently miss the archetypal presentation potentially held within the characters. Hillman suggests that it is the Apollonic archetype itself that causes the literalism of Oedipus and his followers. It is being argued here, on the other hand, that it is the followers that literalize the symbols, not that literalism is inherently involved in the archetypal energy within the West’s foundational mythic figures.

Patricide: Use the force, not the image.

Sophocles never says what happens to Thebes; interpreters are left only to their own conjecture. What is known is that Oedipus died in solitude, giving his blessings to Athens (Roche 151, 159) and not Thebes, and Jesus died publicly prior to God’s Kingdom being established in the way Jesus’ disciples presumed (Acts 1.7). The cure does not come because the prescription is not in the figure; rather, the healing comes through the death of literalizing the symbol and allowing the archetypal force to re-present itself time and again. Here is where the archetypal patricide takes place, both with Jesus and Oedipus: the son, still ever so innocently, kills the father as the father is no longer seen through the figure of the son. Who, however, is the murderer?

Each myth stops at this depth: the figure. As Hillman points out, the followers of Oedipus, depth-psychologists, have been Oedipal through and through since Sigmund Freud identified himself as Oedipus (130-136).  Similarly, subsequent followers of Jesus claim that, “It is not I who live but Christ who lives in me” (Galatians 2.20).  The two foundational myths of the West merge in this depth—here the canyons are joined: a collection of myth-followers who stop at the foot of the brook where only their reflection off the rippling waters of the brook is seen. The reflecting figure is believed to be the figure to be seen, and interpreters miss that this figure is being reflected through an effervescent movement of water: there is something to be experienced—much like the original audiences—through the embodying eikon. What most interpreters have found, though, is a reflection, and one made of vagueness—the quality of any symbol—because of the ripples.

The redeeming deaths of Oedipus and Jesus (see below) have functioned as patricidal deaths, for in the death of the son, who is redeemed through that death, the archetypal force is then killed. Depth-psychology’s murder of Apollonic thinking and Nietzsche’s proclamation of the death of (the Judeo-Christian) God are not mere statements: they are invitations to pick up where these corpses lay. The merging of the Oedipus and Jesus tales at the foot of a brook suggests a safe place, stopping where fluidity begins, gazing only at a reflected image instead of breaking that image with the insertion of ourselves within the stream, where you never step into the same water twice. Apollo nor YHWH are at fault here; the fault lies in idolatry, in literalizing the figurine presented with archetypal force to be the archetype itself.

            Apollo and YHWH are the archetypal gods most often associated with literalism, rationalism, a my-way-or-the-highway mentality (example, Apollonic: Hillman, 119). Literalism cannot reign supreme if ambivalence, metaphor, and polysemy are allowed. When these two archetypes, though, are seen in relation to the containers in which they are signified by, the problem becomes more with the interpretation of the symbol than it does with the signifier. The patricide which is involved in these stories involves a literalizing of the son, of not seeing through the image of the son. The redemption of Jesus’ death is not false to life, as Hillman suggests in Re-Visioning Psychology (98-99), for it was through death that new life was acquired. That is, new life, a new mode of being came vis-à-vis his death. Oedipus, now aware of how he had carried out Apollo’s oracle, was willing to endure Apollo’s death wish and in doing so was able to bless Athens.

            The symbol is most true when it is recognized as something not quite graspable. In each story, Oedipus and Jesus are adored by their followers for both embody archetypal forces that bring healing; however, the banal nature of these re-presenters could not be overlooked. Apollo and YHWH proved the humanity of their archetypal representations by causing all-too-human events to occur: Oedipus with his self-inflicted torture and Jesus with his Roman-inflicted torture. When the Chorus questioned the reasoning behind Oedipus’ self-blinding Oedipus replied, “Friends, it was Apollo, Spirit of Apollo: He made this fruit of evil fructify” (Roche, 75). In the Garden of Gethsemane, while pondering on events soon to come, Jesus prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet not as I will but as You will” (Matt. 26.39)—it is well known what came from that prayer. It is in this suffering, this utter despair, where Oedipus and Jesus seem most human. As sons of god, Oedipus and Jesus were to be that: sons, metaphorical re-presentations of the archetypal force in a grief-stricken Athens and socially disruptive Judea. The problem of literalizing the re-presentation of an archetypal force is summed up, with tongue-in-cheek, by John Crossan: “…remember, if Jesus is at the right hand of God, then God is to the left of Jesus” (Stewart, 26). These men were images, eikons, for these settings, and considering the rife chaos, exploitation, and violent disruptions of today, they might be equally needed as they were for their original audiences.

Concluding, but Never Making a Final Conclusion

            Depth-psychology has argued since its beginning that it is in the underworld, in dreams, in the psyche’s depths where we are to find the forces which guide, forewarn, condemn, uplift, and bring meaning to life. The Oedipus and Jesus tales are the two primary stories that form the Western psyche and, since the Western soul is dehydrated, these stories have received the blunt of criticisms for leaving their followers malnourished. As it has been argued here, the problem might lay more in the unwillingness to dive into the brook these myths bring one to rather than the myths themselves. The mythical patricide is committed not by Oedipus and Jesus, but by the interpreting followers of these myths who use the infant to destroy the father; followers see only the symbol instead of looking through the symbol and becoming a symbol themselves. The death of each figure is a journey in to the underworld; the blessings of Athens and the resurrection of Jesus are not a reemergence to the day world, they are not repatriating to a mode of literalism. Rather, these two figures invite their followers to die themselves, to delve into the underworld as a means of entering a new mode of existence: an existence where the archetypal force can crucify or humiliate you and through that bring healing to others.

The above interpretation is, of course, a mythical reading, which suggests that it re-mythologizes these myths. Then again, is this not what a myth must do? These stories invite us to journey to the depths of the West’s canyon, and the brook that runs through these stories can nourish the soul, if we choose to get our feet a little wet and muddy.

Works Cited

Crossan, John Dominic. The Historical Jesus: The Life of a Mediterranean

Peasant. New York: HarperSanFrancisco, 1991.

—. God and Empire: Jesus Against Rome, Then and Now. New York:

HarperCollins, 2007.

Downing, Christine. “Another Oedipus.” An Oedipus—The Untold Story: A Ghostly Mythodrama In One Act. Ed. Armando Nascimento Rosa. New Orleans: Spring Journal Books, 2006. 280-305.

Hillman, James. Re-Visioning Psychology. New York: Harper & Row, 1975.

The New American Standard Bible. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2000.

Pucci, Pietro. Oedipus and the Fabrication of the Father: Oedipus Tyrannus in

Modern Criticism and Philosophy. Baltimore: John Hopkins UP, 1992 

            Rose, H. J. “The Evidence of Divine Kings in Greece.” The Myth and Ritual Theory. Ed. Segal, Robert. Malden, MA: Blackwell, 1998. 381-387.

            Sophocles. The Oedipus Plays of Sophocles. Roche, Paul, trans. New York: New

American Library, 1958.

 

Stewart, Robert, ed. The Resurrection of Jesus: John Dominic Crossan and N.T.

Wright in Dialogue. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2006.