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Joseph CampbellA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
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From one point of view, the hero is the propulsion of an exciting story; from another, he is at the mercy of a higher will. The first hero will receive a bride as his reward; the other will be reconciled to the father that is the source. The latter story is frequently told in religious tradition. It can be studied when a young person asks his virgin mother who his father is, as in the story of the Water Jar boy. The Water Jar boy asks his mother his father’s identity, but she cries and says he has no father. The Water Jar boy travels to a spring called Waiyu powidi and finds a man there. The boy confronts the man and says he is the Water Jar boy’s father. He repeats this statement until the man admits it is true.
The father in these stories can prove to be menacing and the source of testing, as in the case of the Water Jar boy and Tonga’s story of the clam. When the hero wins his father’s approval, however, he returns home as a supreme, enlightened authority.
In a less hopeful example, the Zoroastrian tale of the Emperor Jemshid, quoted from Shah-Nameh, depicts a proud ruler who places himself above God: “I am unequalled, [...] never did exist / A sovereignty like mine” (347). Jemshid loses his power after his blasphemous proclamation. Heroes like this lose their mastery of both mystical and earthly worlds, and they become villains.
At the ultimate meeting with the father, the hero might realize his equal status with the divine and capacity to redeem the world. Campbell includes a quote by Killer-of-Enemies, an Apache hero, who equates the scope of the world with his own power. Killer-of-Enemies also says his listener should heed his words if he wants a long life. Campbell makes reference to the arc of the tyrant-ogre, whose journey might resemble that of the hero but differs greatly in its theme.
Campbell returns to the Hindu figure of Krishna, who with his brother Balarama is pursued by his murderous uncle Kans. Kans conspires to bring the young men to a city hosting a tournament. Krishna knows of his uncle’s plans and destroys the bow designed to destroy him and his brother. The young men also kill their uncle’s troops. In the tournament, the brothers defeat an elephant that means to trample them, and Krishna defeats wrestlers in the field of battle. Finally, he kills Kans. When women grieve over the dead ruler, Krishna says, “No one can live and not die. [...] There is only the continuous round of birth and death” (352), according to Nivedita and Coomaraswamy.
The balance of good and evil—as well as life and death—remains forever in flux. Thus, the tyrant and the hero are inevitable forces in the world cycle. Campbell quotes Coomaraswamy, who argues that the tyrant-ogre and the divine father are of one substance, but whichever form he takes will die during the story, whether through self-sacrifice or defeat by his enemy. The hero who is not crucified, Campbell states, will become a tyrant.
Campbell remarks that this truth seems rather nihilistic, whether viewed through the prism of Krishna’s sentiments at the end of his story (above) or through Christ’s proclamation in Matthew that he “came not to send peace, but a sword” (353). These stories tend to hide their difficult implications, but those who realize the truth know that “the son and the father are one” (354), pointing to the unity binding all things in the mysteries of the void, from whence creation and destruction both arise.
The Bhagavad Gita, quoted in the beginning of this section, depicts the particulars of the hero-saint: detached from earthly possessions and vice, devoted to meditation, solitary, and gifted with self-forgetfulness. This hero, Campbell states, will travel to an invisible father and enter into the void. Saint Thomas Aquinas, for example, relinquished his writings to find unity with God. The myth cannot adequately contain such a hero’s journey, for his ultimate destination is in an inexpressible silence.
Campbell turns to the implications of every person’s psychological journey, according to Freudian thought. The myths of Oedipus and Pope Gregory the Great illustrate how humanity, both individually and corporately, is doomed to kill its father and marry its mother. Those who wake to this reality discover “what Oedipus knew: the flesh would suddenly appear to be an ocean of self-violation” (355).
Hero-saints live in ascetic penitence, rendering the tree of life into a cross, a means for peace in the light of the divine. Here Campbell quotes the recitations of Catholic ascetics, nuns who become Brides of Christ.
Campbell has reached the finale of the hero’s story. In a quoted myth, the Jewish figure Abraham meets Death and sees his ugliness. His servants die, but Abraham prays for their resurrection. An angel takes Abraham to heaven. Campbell references the account of a dreamer who sees various manifestations of death in a single dream.
Campbell retells a myth about the king and feathered serpent Quetzalcoatl of Aztec myth. The Aztecs invade Quetzalcoatl’s city, Tollan, and overtake it, sending away the monster-king in dismay. As he makes his way along, he acknowledges that he is old and grieves for Tollan. He meets several disasters, including the death of his attendants and a lost game with his nemesis. He reaches the ocean and leaves for his home on a raft made of snakes. An alternate version of the story depicts him burning himself at the shore of the ocean and taking the form of a flock of birds and the Morning Star.
Cuchulainn, on the other hand, waylays his death. One evening, a mysterious chariot holding the battle-goddess Badb in disguise arrives at Cuchulainn’s home. He angers her, and Badb (in the form of a bird) foretells Cuchulainn’s death. She says he will die when the offspring of her cow is one year old; Cuchulainn will die at the hand of a strong man by a ford, with Badb intervening in the form of an ensnaring eel. Badb’s prophecy comes true, but Cuchulainn does not die as she predicts.
Campbell picks up the finale of the Water Jar boy story. He has found his father at the spring, and inside the spring are the boy’s aunts, who embrace him. The boy returns home to tell his mother about what he found, but his mother dies. When the Water Jar boy comes back to the spring, he finds his mother and father there together, and that his father caused the mother’s death.
Campbell quotes an account of the death of the Buddha. The Buddha lies down between two trees that come into bloom out of season, and the sky fills with music as blossoms fall on his body. The Buddha explains to his attendant, Ananda, that gods have gathered around his body to behold his passage into Nirvana. He describes the exultations of the gods. After a time, the Buddha tells his priests his time has come. He passes through a series of trances into various realms, ending with Nirvana.
The hero’s journey into a dangerous, mystical world and retrieval of a divine boon might indeed inspire pride and a tight grip on power over humankind. If the hero does not choose compassion, Campbell warns, he will become Holdfast. The reader might assume that any hero who approaches a return in this way has not achieved the pure enlightenment of heroes like “The Lord Looking Down in Pity” (another example of a World Redeemer) or Dante in The Divine Comedy, both discussed in prior chapters. These heroes have compassion for people and, moreover, no need for earthly power, knowing that it passes away.
Returning to a discussion of duality, Campbell considers how Holdfast and the hero are inevitable figures, equal emanations of the Imperishable source. Campbell writes:
from the standpoint of the cosmogonic cycle, a regular alternation of fair and foul is characteristic of the spectacle of time. Just as in the history of the universe, so also in that of nations: emanation leads to dissolution, youth to age, birth to death, form-creative vitality to the dead weight of inertia (352).
The hero must exist, just as the dragon must exist. The gods of mythology possess this knowledge of time’s cyclic movements, but the humans populating the narrative—as well as myths’ intended audiences—typically do not. Campbell identifies another point of human ignorance: the Oedipal tragedy that governs human existence and necessitates the hero’s redemptive act for the sake of “beatitude in God” (356).
The Coomaraswamy quote Campbell includes develops this idea, as the writer sees through the external conflict between hero and villain into the void, “where there is no polarity of contraries, but mortal enemies on the stage, where the everlasting war of the Gods and the Titans is displayed” (353). This is the fabric of enlightenment: an embrace of the formlessness behind the forms that battle on a temporary plane of existence. Campbell reaches the same conclusion as he did in Part 1: The destiny of the hero is enlightenment and oneness with all things. The saint-hero is the overt picture of this goal, surpassing vice and embracing the symbolism of the divine.
The redeemer and saint may die—literally or spiritually—on behalf of the world to step into that divine. This death—in the case of Quetzalcoatl, Cuchulainn, and the Buddha—is like the hero’s childhood in that it mimics the road of trials in the hero’s primary adventure. The end remains the same: In both the adventure proper and in the path to death, the hero reaches a nadir of self-annihilation where the ultimate battle is won and the ultimate prize bestowed. However, death is not the end, and the enlightened one perceives the hero’s role in that ever-revolving cycle.
By Joseph Campbell