Introduction
Friedrich Nietzche asks, “Is pessimism necessarily the sign of decline, decay, of the failure of the exhausted and weakened instincts?...Is there such a thing as a strong pessimism? An intellectual preference for the hard, horrific, evil, problematic aspects of existence which stems from well-being, from overflowing health, from an abundance of existence?”(1) The German philosopher’s questions pay homage to Greek tragedy in his book, The Birth of Tragedy, while calling for a revival of tragic art in order to reignite the profound truths and trials it garners of human existence in society. Many, along with Nietzche, would agree that Greek tragedy has been a powerful vessel for exploring the human condition through vivid storytelling, complex characters, and plots that often bring about their undoing with more complexity than other forms of narrative throughout history.
Given any exploration of the human condition, one cannot avoid looking at the role of evil and suffering, particularly when examining this sect of literature. During the Peloponnesian War, Sophocles wrote his penultimate tragedy, Philoctetes, and according to David Grene in his introduction and translation of the play, “it is perhaps the most modern in feeling of all Sophocles’ tragedies, and Sophocles is the most modern, the nearest to us, of the three Greek tragedians.”(2) Throughout his body of work, including Philoctetes, Sophocles consistently places great emphasis on man’s lack of wisdom. He masterfully showcases the juxtaposition between truth and ignorance, between wisdom and folly, through flawed characters and their irrational behavior, riddled with error. It is these displays of the human condition and its effects on individuals and society—with thematic arenas ranging from friendship and family to war and divinity—that make Greek tragedy an ideal canvas on which to explore the problem of evil and suffering.
From a Chrsitian perspective, though, what can one gain from reading a Greek tragedy like Philoctetes? How does a story rooted in the deepest sense of mankind and its broken nature—ruled by gods that were both good and bad, and more reflective of subjective, hierarchical value systems—reconcile with the story and theology of Christ and the gospel? Sure, it is quite possible to read a story like Philoctetes and derive meaningful insight into morality and the human condition, but to stop there would be to overlook its insight into the cosmological design of the universe and its maker, as well as a more complex relationship between human nature and the nature of the divine. Before drawing a line in the sand between the Greeks and modern Christians, one must consider Nietzche’s argument: “A fundamental question is the Greek’s relationship to pain, his degree of sensitivity—does this relationship remain constant? Or did it undergo a reversal?—the question of whether his increasingly strong yearning for beauty, for festivals, amusements, new cults, was rooted in lack, privation, melancholy, pain.”(3) It is through the lens of these questions that one must view Greek tragedies in order to assess their value in a Christian worldview and theodicy.
The problem of evil is an issue Christians continue to debate over—how an all-good, all-powerful, all-knowing God can permit evil in a world of His own creation. All theodicies aim to reconcile the existence of evil with such a God. Without the assumption of the Judeo-Christian God, Greek tragedies do not serve as a direct embodiment or defense of any existing theodicy. However, in examining Sophocles’s approach to the problem of evil in Philoctetes, and by observing the three main characters—their circumstances, values, and decisions—one can conclude that the play, as a whole, presents valuable support for the Irenaean ‘soul-making’ theodicy.
The problem of evil in Philoctetes
Before one can determine how a work like Philoctetes can contribute to a Christian understanding of the problem of evil, it is important to understand the intent and context of the dramatist. Understanding how Sophocles understood evil, how he inflicted it upon his characters, how he resolved it, and how he aims for his audience to interpret it, are all influential elements to examine for a full analysis. It is first imperative to note that in his play, Sophocles approaches the topic of evil from a polytheistic worldview. Since the Greeks did not believe their gods were inherently good, any implications of theodicies based on an all-good, all-powerful, all-knowing, singular God are mere speculations—or alternative ways to extract and apply universal wisdom to a monotheistic worldview.
With that in mind, one question that must be asked is, do the ancient Greeks like Sophocles view evil as a logical or deductive problem, an evidential or inductive problem, or an existential problem? Given that he did not believe in an all-good, all-powerful, all-knowing, singular God, the logic of evil in the face of such a God is irrelevant to Sophocles. Likewise, the evidential approach—suggesting that while God and evil can both exist logically, the amount or nature of evil may provide evidence against God’s existence—assumes the goodness of God, which has already been deemed irrelevant for a Greek polytheist. Perhaps the only reasonable approach Sophocles could take to the existence of evil in Philoctetes is the existential approach. This approach examines not whether evil discounts the existence of God, but examines why, how, and when evil plays out in one’s life. In his comprehensive overview essay on theodicy, Dr. Philip Irving Mitchell says:
In one sense, all theodicy is practical, in that it takes place within a specific social and intellectual context amidst an environment that is often polemical and focused on problem-solving, but the practical, existential theodicy is more concerned with providing answers for those who suffer in specific circumstances. Often, the existential problem turns from asking why God allows such-and-such an evil to what can humans made in the image of God do to alleviate or make manageable suffering and evil. Likewise, the focus turns more to how believers should respond to God while suffering (i.e. faith, protest, mysticism, the sacraments and worship).(4)
Again, this is not to suggest that Christian readers cannot derive meaningful insight from the play when examining the logical and evidential approaches to evil. However, given the clear irrelevance of such approaches to its writer, it is safest to assume and wise to keep in mind that Sophocles’s characters worked through the suffering and evil in their journeys with existential purpose.
The next question to ask is, what kind of evil is present in Sophocles’s work? The nature of the evil present influences the ways in which one can relate it to the nature of the divine. Therefore, before determining how a theodicy is relevant to a Greek play such as Philoctetes, or what truths can resonate within different theodicies, it is important to identify whether one is examining natural or moral evil. Natural evil—what religious philosophy professor Eleonore Stump describes as “evil not caused by human choices”(5)—operates in the form of Philoctetes’s snake bite wound and infection, as well as the harsh, hostile, uninhabitable conditions of Lemnos. Odysseus describes it as “desolate, no one sets foot on it; there are no houses.”(6) It is these natural evils that call for a response from Philoctetes, which ultimately leads to his shipmates abandoning him and the hardening of his heart. Odysseus tells Neoptolemus about the decision to abandon him on Lemnos:
I tell you I had orders for what I did:
my masters, the princes, bade me do it.
We had no peace with him: at the holy festivals,
we dared not touch the wine and meat; he screamed
and groaned so, and those terrible cries of his
brought ill luck on our celebrations; all
the camp was haunted by him. (7)
It is not Philoctetes’s circumstances, or the natural evil, that caused his abandonment, but his choice—to complain incessantly and maintain victimhood amidst the religious rituals. His choice contributes to their choice to inflict moral evil on him, leaving him in isolation, vulnerable to more natural evil. This suggests that natural evil and moral evil do, in fact, interplay and oscillate often within human nature and society, and within Sophocles’s play. However, the natural factors embedded in this narrative alone, while significant to the characters’ development, are more auxiliary themes of the story.
Sophocles’s main medium for driving his plot and rich themes are the actions the characters perform for or against one another, suggesting the primary evil present in Philoctetes is moral. Moral evil, being the harmful or malevolent acts of one man toward another, is clearly seen throughout the war, betrayal, and corruption the characters face. Philoctetes’s consistent acts of self-pity, Odysseus’s shiftiness and manipulation, and Neoptolemus’s lies and betrayal are all moral evils inflicted on the characters themselves and one another.
While scholars debate whether the actions of these characters are truly immoral or whether they are, in some cases, considered noble—given a Sophist or “traditional aristocratic model where nobility is only judged by one's bloodline”(8)—or necessary, this essay is concerned with whether these acts warrant the question of being moral issues or not, rather than the definitive answer. Being that the characters wrestle with their conscience, their loyalty, their consequences, and the ways in which they behave in context of the gods and their family lines, these actions indeed, warrant the question of morality. They also drive the plot and decisions the characters make, and therefore it can be concluded that when examining evil in Sophocles’s play, it is the moral evil that takes precedence.
Beginning with Philoctetes, one can examine the evil that rests idly, deeply, and slyly within unfortunate circumstances. The title character finds himself abandoned on a treacherous island not because he was injured, nor because he is not fit to fight, but because he was incessant with complaint. This in itself does not boast the most malevolent evil, though it does spring from sin. It is what festers in the sin that becomes toxic to his mind and heart: his growing resentment for Odysseus and his betrayers and the isolation that feeds it. In his book, Late Sophocles: The Hero’s Evolution in Electra, Philoctetes, and Oedipus at Colonus, Thomas Van Nortwick’s chapter entitled “Philoctetes: The Creature in the Cave,” states:
The island venue, the cave with its curious furnishings, the absent dweller whose return is an occasion for fear, all this would remind the audience of nothing so much as the Cyclops episode from the Odyssey. Like Polyphemus, Philoctetes is physically repellant and nurses a powerful anger against Odysseus; isolated on an uncivilized island, he falls prey to the wily hero and his companions. Seen through the eyes of his relentless pursuer, Philoctetes becomes a kind of monster here, whose howling and screaming drove away the Greeks, whose crude lair is an anthropological curiosity.(9)
As events that address the bitter mundaneness of Philoctetes’s life, the chorus’s shift from “detached curiosity to compassion”(10) for him, and his interaction with Neoptolemus provide a backdrop on which to view his resentment. According to Van Nortwick, “The exchange so far has reinforced the portrait of Philoctetes as an object of fascination: abandoned on the empty island, scratching out a miserable existence with no one to heal his wound. To this detached, anthropological perspective are juxtaposed two emotions that suggest a closer engagement: fear of the cave dweller and compassion for his plight.”(11) While Sophocles’s surrounding characters add color to Philoctetes’s role as a hero in the story, his moral errors still play a pivotal role in his circumstances. The chorus eventually says to him:
It was you who doomed yourself,
man of hard fortune. From no other,
from nothing stronger, came your mischance.
When you could have chosen wisdom,
with better opportunity before you,
you chose the worse.(12)
The chorus reiterates that it is not his hard fortune that has doomed him—as all men come across misfortune at some point—but his choice to ignore the opportunity for wisdom and better circumstances, and instead to wallow in his self-pity.
While Philoctetes presents a unique embodiment of moral evil juxtaposing a hero worthy of compassion, Sophocles’s portrayal of moral evil cannot be complete without examining the acts of Odysseus. His deceit and manipulation, particularly toward Neoptolemus, is both his obvious and primary evil. He appeals to Neoptolemus’s sense of duty and honor in order to achieve a personal goal, while subsequently corrupting Neoptolemus’s core moral makeup. He tells Achilles’s son:
I know, young man, it is not your natural bent
to say such things nor to contrive such mischief.
But the prize of victory is pleasant to win.
Bear up: another time we shall prove honest.
For one brief shameless portion of a day
give me yourself, and then for all the rest
you may be called most scrupulous of men.(13)
His use of truth and his acknowledgment of the corruption embedded in his request is not hidden from Neoptolemus, as Odysseus knows how much he values honesty, but his reasons remain crooked. In “Being Achilles’ Heir: A Psychoanalytical Reading of Neoptolemus in Sophocles’ Philoctetes,” Cecilia Cozzi says, “Odysseus knows how to manipulate Neoptolemus: the youth would bend more easily, if he is reminded of the need to match his father’s excellence.”(14) He also exploits Philoctetes’s suffering and takes advantage of his vulnerability in order to obtain his bow, rather than caring for a man in need or addressing his emotional trauma with compassion and remorse.
As a war leader, Odysseus’s integrity is rooted in his success in battle rather than his moral righteousness. His sole objective to win the Trojan War—for the collective good—far outweighs his concern for any individual’s well-being that is damaged as a result of his tactics. Cozzi highlights two values that Odysseus defends in his actions; one being the importance of the common interest: “At vv. 8-9, he emphasizes the main reason that led him to abandon Philoctetes on a desert island (an act that has been deemed ‘amoral’): his cries were disturbing the religious activities of the community. Odysseus defends the point of view that individual interests must be subordinated to the common interest, even in the religious sphere.”(15) The second is adaptability. Cozzi says, “Odysseus is ready to adapt to whatever the situation requires (v. 1049) in order to reach his goal, even if it means changing or abandoning his moral framework. He asks Neoptolemos to be ready to follow him in this (vv. 83-85). The quality of adaptability is strongly linked to the idea of nobility that Odysseus seeks to promote.”(16)
It is not unexpected that there is a shift and corrosion of ethics that occurs during a time of war, but it remains the responsibility of war leaders to maintain morale, unity, and ethics among those he leads. According to Cozzi, “To Odysseus' mind, true nobility resides precisely in adapting to circumstances and acting (for the common good) as a given situation requires without being prevented from doing so by pre-established codes of behaviour, including one dictated by the traditional heroic ideal.”(17) While Odysseus’s actions may find justification from a utilitarian perspective, the ends do not justify the means in the question of evil. It is his pragmatic, success-driven view that employs a moral relativism that deems deception and manipulation appropriate for the circumstances. However, his disregard for ethics, as pragmatic as it may be, leaves his actions squarely in the camp of moral evil.
Odysseus’s Machiavellian tactics highlight his willingness to disregard traditional Greek heroic values such as honor, loyalty, and forthrightness, in exchange for cunning and the instrumentalization of individuals to achieve his goals. In doing this, he disregards both Philoctetes’s and Neoptolemus’s humanity and autonomy, undermining the very values of Greek heroism. In comparison to Odysseus’s character in Homer’s work, Cozzi argues:
[H]is unconcealed use of lie and deceit and his commitment to speech rather than action do not belong to the behaviour of a traditional hero. The figure of the Homeric Odysseus was already tainted with such ambiguity, and Sophocles plays on it too. His recurrent use of words linked to ideas of deception or falsehood draws the attention of the audience to a particular characteristic of Odysseus' behaviour.(18)
This characteristic is positioned not as a casualty or necessity of war time, but as the crux of Odysseus’s downfall in Philoctetes.
Odysseus’s fatal flaws are inflicted on none other than Sophocles’s final subject of morality, Neoptolemus. His sense of honor and truth are overpowered quickly by the persuasion and authority of Odysseus, resulting in compromise that reflects a lack of moral courage and betrayal not only of Philoctetes, but also of Greek values. He tells Odysseus:
Philoctetes
I will gladly fight and capture, bring him with us,
but not by treachery. Surely a one-legged man
cannot prevail against so many of us!
I recognize that I was sent with you
to follow your instructions. I am loath
to have you call me traitor. Still, my lord,
I would prefer even to fail with honor
than win by cheating.(19)
However, despite stating his preference to win Philoctetes’s bow fairly, he quickly succumbs to the pressure of Odysseus’s plan of manipulation and promise that he will be called “a wise man and a good,”(20) ultimately choosing his own personal glory at the expense of another person. According to Hanna M. Roisman in her essay, “The Appropriation of a Son: Sophocles’ Philoctetes,” “Neoptolemus gives up his moral heritage in the belief that he will be Troy’s sole conqueror.”(21) Despite being a more likable character than Odysseus, a more redeemable character, and a character far easier to approach with compassion, Neoptolemus’s moral weakness and participation in moral evil cannot be overlooked.
His compromise and cowardice is only heightened by his feigning empathy and solidarity with Philoctetes. When Philoctetes asks if Neoptolemus is also angry at the Atridae, he answers:
Give me the chance to gratify my anger
with my hand some day!
Then will Mycenae know and Sparta know
that Scyrus, too, breeds soldiers.(22)
Neoptolemus continues to tell Philoctetes of his father’s death, garnering his sympathy and bonding with him over the mutual respect for Achilles. Philoctetes eventually tells him:
You have sailed here, as it seems, with a clear tally;
your half of sorrow matches that of mine.
What you tell rings in harmony.(23)
Their commiseration serves as a primer for Neoptolemus’s deception. He aims to get close to him so that Philoctetes trusts him fully to bring him back home and does not expect him to exploit his state of weakness. Philoctetes tells him:
Now in you I have found both escort and messenger;
bring me safe home. Take pity on me.(24)
It is at this point that Neoptolemus knows he can take the bow from his subject without difficulty. His self-serving acts of dishonesty and manipulation have robbed another man of choice, agency, and ultimately, humanity—an undeniably moral evil.
Knowing Sophocles’s approach to the problem of evil, the nature of evil present in Philoctetes, and the various evils committed by the main characters, one can begin to assess the value of a Greek drama such as this in understanding Christian theodicy. The cause and effect of the characters’ actions are rooted in universal motivations and principles that transcend interpretations of the divine and find definition in the objective truth of right and wrong. While such transcendental truth provides its own grounds for the argument for the Christian God, this essay is less concerned with the apologetic approach to the divine and will remain focused on the value monotheists can gain from Sophocles’s work within the framework of the soul-making theodicy.
Support for the soul-making theodicy in Philoctetes
Proposed by John Hick, the Irenean soul-making theodicy suggests that the world was designed in a way that enables and facilitates moral and spiritual development, which, in turn, permits evil for the sake of shaping one’s character toward goodness. The idea first formally appeared in his work, Evil and the God of Love, where Hick states that “it is an ethically reasonable judgment…that human goodness slowly built up through personal histories of moral effort has a value in the eyes of the Creator which justifies even the long travail of the soul-making process.”(25) Not only does this theodicy propose that evil can exist in a world ruled by a good, powerful, knowing God, but that it must exist in order for man to reach the end of a well-formed and righteous soul.
In his essay, “Immanuel Kant, John Hick, and the ‘Soul-Making’ Theodicy,” Gian Martinelli adds, “Hick claims that humans must deal with evil in this world in order to become stronger and more suitable for a union with God in the afterlife.”(26) He also notes that those who challenge this theodicy rely too much on practical reason in their defense, suggesting “the very nature of most traditional theodicies is theoretical. These theodicies defend and clarify aspects of the concept of the greatest Object.”(27) While monotheistic Christians cannot align their greatest Object directly with that of Sophocles’s characters, Philoctetes does allow for contemplation of various aspects of the soul-making theodicy, such as the human condition and the purpose of suffering: the development of character and virtue.
The human condition
The soul-making theodicy assumes that man’s fallen nature results in a separation from God on a spiritual level, and a weakness in human nature that keeps man in a state of frailty. Acknowledgement of such weakness and understanding of mankind’s need for spiritual and moral growth is essential before one seeks it out. Hick argues, “Men are not to be thought of on the analogy of animal pets, whose life is to be made as agreeable as possible, but rather on the analogy of human children, who are to grow to adulthood in an environment whose primary and overriding purpose is not immediate pleasure but the realizing of the most valuable potentialities of human personality.”(28) This creates a frailty within human nature that beckons a need for companionship, teaching, and human-to-human support along the way. Philoctetes’s physical needs are far inferior to the cry of his soul for Neoptolemus’s friendship. It is also through their friendship that he is faced with the decision to forgive and find a way to thrive in community, or remain alone and watch his soul and body dwindle under the weight of his experiences. It is the humanity that pulls one out of the mire and back onto the road of soul-making.
The purpose of suffering
Like a Job of his day, Philoctetes displays the fruit of long-suffering on the island of Lemnos. As the tragic hero in the story, he is presented daily with the choice to endure his suffering, and while he often bears it poorly, he ultimately develops qualities such as patience, resilience, and fortitude. Upon returning the bow to its owner in the cave, Neoptolemus tells Philoctetes:
But men that cling wilfully to their sufferings
as you do, no one may forgive nor pity.
Your anger has made a savage of you. You will not
accept advice, although the friend advises
in pure goodheartedness.(29)
Despite the resentment that grows in his heart toward Odysseus and his betrayers, he ultimately asks, “How can I distrust his words who in friendship has counseled me?”(30) He struggles to rebuild trust with Neoptolemus, but ultimately chooses to persevere, and despite the intense physical pain and mental trauma, he is transformed by his trials. The nature of his transformation will be discussed later, but here, it is merely important to recognize that he is persuaded by Heracles to persevere, and while he may not struggle to reconcile his suffering with the inherent goodness of his gods as a modern Christian might, the Greek qualities of loyalty and duty to the gods do create a similar internal struggle when the characters live out such values and still face suffering.
It is also worth noting that the experience of suffering—and subsequently, the experiences of building one’s character in the soul-making process—is not exclusive to any type of believer, and therefore its inherent qualities, causes and effects, and purposes can be reasonably dissected from any religious perspective, be it a modern Christian or a Greek polytheist. C.S. Lewis makes this unification in his book, The Problem of Pain. He says,
We cannot escape the doctrine [of death] by ceasing to be Chrsitians. It is an ‘eternal gospel’ revealed to men wherever men have sought, or endured, the truth; it is the very nerve of redemption, which anatomising wisdom at all times and in all places lays bare; the inescapable knowledge which the Light that lighteneth every man presses down upon the minds of all who seriously question what the universe is ‘about.’(31)
The experience of Philoctetes’s dilemma—encountering pain and suffering despite efforts to do and reflect good in the world—shares the same metaphysical beginning as a modern Christian’s experience, and inevitably leads him to reflect on the purpose of his suffering with new awareness and maturity, and make choices that are informed by his refining circumstances.
This is all assuming one allows his suffering to widen his awareness, mature him, and refine his choices. According to Lewis, “Tribulation does its work in a world where human beings are ordinarily seeing, by lawful means, to avoid their own natural evil and to attain their natural good, and presupposes such a world.”(32) Greek plays like Philoctetes are strewn with battles between man and his nature, good and evil, et cetera, not unlike the world of the Christian. Regardless of religious standpoint, these are deeply human battles. From the Christian perspective, Lewis also proposes, “In order to submit the will to God, we must have a will and that will must have objects. Christian renunciation does not mean stoic ‘Apathy’, but a readiness to prefer God to inferior ends which are in themselves lawful.”(33) Is this renunciation apparent in Philoctetes? In God’s place is Greek heroism, and since Neoptolemus is already promised personal glory for his victory, his return to Philoctetes and attempt at moral redemption is purely a voluntary surrender to the values of heroism he prefers over the inferior ends of personal glory.
The soul-making theodicy ultimately rests on the idea that evil and suffering must be factored into creation because they are the only means of developing virtue and character, given the fallen nature of the human race. In Confessions, Saint Augustine says, “For you fashion sorrow into a lesson to us. You smite so that you may heal. You slay us, so that we may not die apart from you.”(34) Likewise, in Philoctetes, one can see even the most virtuous characters are not exempt from suffering and the temptation of self-motivated behavior. Both Neoptolemus and Philoctetes are pressed in their suffering to either succumb to its weight and become bitter, sinful, and unholy, or rise above and share in the holiness that Heracles encourages them to pursue when he says:
But this remember,
when you shall come to sack that town, keep holy in the sight of God.
All else our father Zeus thinks of less moment.
Holiness does not die with the men that die.
Whether they die or live, it cannot perish.(35)
It is the trials that they face that fashions Sophocles’s characters into men they could not say they were prior to their suffering. Trial fashions Philoctetes into a man of fortitude, where before, he was a man of victimhood, and trial fashions Neoptolemus into a man of unwavering integrity, where before, his integrity was swayed by whomever could convince him that it was misplaced. If not for their suffering, these pivotal qualities would not have reason to develop within these characters, and therefore making their souls more acceptable in the eyes of the object of holiness.
Finally, the ending of Philoctetes, where Heracles makes a supernatural appearance and convinces Philoctetes to go to Troy to both win the war and be healed of his disease, embodies the completion of Philoctetes’s soul-making. In his translation of Philoctetes, David Grene states, “Aristotle in the Poetics criticizes the Philoctetes for its happy ending, and many commentators since have been annoyed, or puzzled, or both by the solution of the play, which involves the God from the machine.”(36) However, the fact that the play does not show the perfecting of the characters’ narratives arguably aligns with the idea that no soul is ever fully made perfect in the eyes of God while still on earth, suggesting the “happiness” is not necessarily complete, but implied, arguably reflecting the Irenean soul-making theodicy quite well.
Addressing arguments against the soul-making theodicy in Philoctetes
Argument 1: the character of the gods
There are a number of arguments one could make against the soul-making theodicy parallels in Philoctetes. The first and most obvious is that the gods in Sophocles’s play do not hold the same character and ethical perfection that the Christian God does, and, equally importantly, their followers do not assume they do. Theodicy, as a concept, attempts to reconcile the qualities of a perfect God—who deeply cares for mankind—with the evidential human experience of evil in the world. The Greek gods, alternatively, are often known for being imperfect and relatively indifferent toward human suffering. When Neoptolemus cries out to the gods for a quick and prosperous journey, Philoctetes calls it an “empty prayer.”(37) He also says:
Death, death, how is it that I can call on you,
always, day in, day out, and you cannot come to me?(38)
Not only does he suggest that the gods are not willing to bless them or protect them, but here, he also suggests that they do not offer to relieve them. More clearly, one can observe this belief when Philoctetes curses Odysseus:
My curse on you! I have often cursed you before,
but the Gods give me nothing that is sweet to me.
You have joy to be alive, and I have sorrow
because my very life is linked to this pain,
laughed at by you and your two generals,
the sons of Atreus whom you serve in this.(39)
For better or worse, the gods’ detachment from Philoctetes during his period of suffering on Lemnos and during his conflict with Odysseus might suggest there is, in fact, no connection between human suffering and divine fortification.
This understanding and belief about the gods’ qualities, character, and intentions is important for a proper interpretation of the tragedy. When Odysseus attempts to justify his actions under Zeus’s order, Philoctetes responds:
Hateful creature,
what things you can invent! You plead the Gods
to screen your actions and make the Gods out liars.(40)
The reader must either, at worst, assume that Odysseus is telling the truth and therefore conclude that the gods actively orchestrate deception and moral evil in the world, or at best, assume that Odysseus is lying, in which case, the gods are merely absent or indifferent in the affairs of man’s suffering. Even if assuming the best, by this line of thinking, the tragedy falls just short of a soul-making narrative.
However, the characters’ faith in the gods and their drive to please them suggest that they do, in fact, believe there is a relevant connection between the divine and their human lives. In his curse of Odysseus, Philoctetes still cries to the gods for their help:
May death in ugly form come on you! It will so come,
for you have wronged me, if the Gods care for justice.
And I know that they do care for it, for at present
you never would have sailed here for my sake
and my happiness, had not the goad of God,
a need of me, compelled you.
Land of my fathers, Gods that look on men’s deeds,
take vengeance on these men, in your own good time,
upon them all, if you have pity on me!
Wretchedly as I live, if I saw them
dead, I could dream that I was free of my sickness.(41)
Not only does he call on the gods’ concern for justice, but he calls on their logic and concern for men’s deeds in their dealing of justice. While, perhaps, this could merely be the final cry of a desperate man, it is more likely that he holds the belief that the gods do, in fact, believe in justice, despite having different views of what justice may be. The chorus also makes a case for the gods orchestrating Philoctetes’s suffering in order to present him the opportunity to persevere and grow. After telling him he has essentially failed at choosing fortitude, they say:
It was the will of the Gods
that has subdued you, no craft
to which my hand was lent.(42)
In the same spirit, Neoptolemus also tells Philoctetes:
The fortunes that the Gods give to us men
we must bear under necessity.(43)
These interactions present stronger evidence that Philoctetes embodies willful ignorance, and while he may not perceive the gods’ soul-making efforts in his suffering, it is Sophocles’s use of surrounding characters, such as the chorus and Neoptolemus, that more prominently illustrates that the gods do serve a soul-making purpose in the Greek tragedy.
Argument 2: the lack of moral growth
The lack of Philoctetes’s observable moral growth throughout the play could admittedly serve as another argument in itself against the work’s soul-making relevancy. Despite his outward resilience, he remains bitter, angry, and resentful in his heart throughout most of the play, until Heracles’s intervention. It is difficult to determine whether he chooses resilience in order to truly change his mind and spirit, or to simply revel in his victim status. After Neoptolemus returns his bow and offers to help him off the island, Philoctetes remains stubborn in his pain and determined to view his friend in skeptical unforgiveness. Neoptolemus asks:
What shall we do, since I cannot convince you
of anything I say? It is easiest for me
to leave my argument, and you to live,
as you are living, with no hope of cure.(44)
Philoctetes’s reply suggests he is, indeed, more inclined to be a martyr to his victim status and live out his days as one who survived betrayal, rather than one who learned and grew from his forgiveness:
Let me suffer what I must suffer.
But what you promised to me and touched my hand,
to bring me home, fulfill it for me, boy.
Do not delay, do not speak again of Troy
I have had enough of sorrow and lamentation.(45)
He expresses the same attitude toward Odysseus and only changes with the intervention of Heracles.
Additionally, his reluctant return to Troy is arguably more pragmatic and driven by external factors like Heracles’s influence rather than an intrinsic sense of moral transformation. Philoctetes says to Neoptolemus and the Chorus:
I would have you know what I have lived from,
how tough the spirit that did not break. I think
the sight itself would have been enough for anyone
except myself. Necessity has taught me,
little by little, to suffer and be patient.(46)
The emphasis here is on “necessity.” Is this necessity that of the soul-making nature of suffering, or merely of his survival?
However, Heracles’s intervention could very well serve as the divine transformation of the soul needed to make use of his suffering. In The Problem of Pain, Lewis suggests an evil or sinful man lives in an illusion until he is shaken into reality by pain, which informs him that he is “in some way or other ‘up against’ the real universe, [and] he either rebels (with the possibility of a clearer issue and deeper repentance at some later stage) or else makes some attempt at an adjustment, which if pursued, will lead him to religion.”(47) Though Philoctetes had been shaken into reality by his pain for quite some time, he rebelled until this particular opportunity to pursue an adjustment. This delay and rebellion created in him, as Lewis articulates, a deeper repentance, which creates a more effective soul-making case for the character of Philoctetes.
The risk Sophocles poses in writing his character’s journey in this way—the risk of “final and unrepented rebellion”(48)—pays off with a powerful display of the reality of pain—that “it gives the only opportunity the bad man can have for amendment.”(49) At the end of the play, Heracles tells him:
Let me reveal to you my own story first,
let me show the tasks and sufferings that were mine,
and, at the last, the winning of deathless merit.
All this you can see in me now.
All this must be your suffering too,
the winning of a life to an end in glory,
out of this suffering.(50)
Despite his late revelation, Philoctetes chooses amendment at the words of Heracles. Given this, it is possible that as a reader, one must shift his expectation of the timing of character growth in the case of Philoctetes and remain open to the possibility that his journey of soul-making simply begins at the story’s end.
Argument 3: moral decay
The lack of observable moral growth suggests the soul-making argument is a matter of having enough evidence toward soul-making, but Neoptolemus’s moral decay is an argument that attempts to invalidate soul-making by any amount of evidence. The challenges that Neoptolemus faces suggest his suffering—the guilt and shame associated with betraying his integrity—does not provide moral or spiritual growth, but instead corrupts his morality and character. The question is: does his repentance and attempt to rectify his actions eliminate the everlasting effect they have on his soul, or does moral corruption have lasting consequences for those who do not have a gospel Savior?
In appraising this moral deterioration, it is first important to grasp how Neoptolemus approaches his own identity and moral makeup psychologically. In her essay, “Supplication: Memory and self- definition in Sophocles’ Philoctetes,” Makrionitou Marilena suggests, “Greeks recognised themselves, their subjectivity (‘I’) through their participation in shared forms of human life and discourse, in interpersonal and communal values.”(51) She goes on to say, “Neoptolemus’ behavior is conditioned in this unstable and uncertain balance between nature (φύσις) and word (λόγος), between his true identity dictated by his innate qualities and his public self determined by the words and expectations of others.”(52) This instability in his actions grows as he comes closer to completing his mission, and serves as the lens through which to view his character development. Once Philoctetes is made aware of the magnitude of his deception, he tells Neoptolemus:
You are not bad yourself; by bad men’s teaching
you came to practice your foul lesson.(53)
He acknowledges that Neoptolemus’s character is not inherently evil, but that his choices—driven by the unstable balance in his identity—dictate the path toward corruption and will dictate what is needed to restore him.
To that end, does a mark on one’s soul condemn him forever, or does his next step determine the everlasting impact of his pain? Lewis says, “We have a strange illusion that mere time cancels sin…but mere time does nothing either to the fact or to the guilt of a sin.”(54) He goes on to say that repentance and the blood of Christ are the only things that truly wash out the guilt of sin. While the Greeks do not have Christ’s sacrifice within their narrative, they do have their own form of repentance and blood sacrifice. Neoptolemus returns to Lemnos and offers his repentance, and Philoctetes goes on to Troy to help take the city and kill the prince Paris. Together, repentance and bloodshed are represented in the play as the atoning elements of Neoptolemus’s sin.
Though Neoptolemus will indeed live with the consequences of his moral corruption in his soul, it is not a definitive sentence against soul-making. In fact, he arguably experiences a broadening of moral capacity and understanding because of the intricacies his corrupt behavior introduces to him. In experiencing the effects of his actions, even after returning to Lemnos, Marilena says, “The young man recognizes Philoctetes’ right to make his own choices, even when they conflict with both the collective and personal interest."(55) Neoptolemus cannot force Philoctetes to accept his apology and he must now put an end to the imbalance and ground his identity in the justice of rightdoing, rather than in the words or expectations of others.
Because of this choice, “his experience in Lemnos reveals Neoptolemus the very value of self-determination, the value that has for each human being the clear knowledge of himself as an individual with specific character, desires and moods.”(56) The core of Neoptolemus’s internal conflict is addressed not in his initial betrayal and moral decay, but in how he handles the opportunity to make it right, in light of factors that are unpredictable, unaccepting, unpromised, and tempting in themselves to knock his sense of self off its axis. Again, to interpret his soul-making properly, readers must shift their sights away from what is assumed to be the central struggle of this character and toward the surrounding facets of self that needed grounding through the stumbling and stabilizing process, which was indeed a process of soul-making.
Argument 4: excessive or 'useless' suffering
Another argument against soul-making in the play is Philoctetes’s excessive suffering. One could argue that his prolonged suffering is arbitrary and disproportionate to any moral or spiritual benefit he may gain from the experience. This argument, however, is more closely opposed to the greater design theodicy, which suggests God included the possibility of evil in the world’s design, but that if rightly perceived, mankind would understand that it all works together for a greater good. Some philosophers and theologians, including Emmanuel Levinas, believe that “this theodicy is a temptation of man, which helps to maintain a certain tranquility despite the helplessness of life, and saves people from dealing with the abyss of suffering by justifying the unjustifiable.”(57) In this way, he rejects traditional theodicy in order to explore true responsibility for useless or unnecessary suffering in humans. In terms of soul-making, though, to suggest any suffering is excessive is to assume that creation is complete and that man can definitively make such a determination. Given that one of the core beliefs about the Irenean soul-making theodicy is that creation is not complete, but rather in a process of completion, no human being could theoretically determine how much is “too much” suffering, rendering this argument invalid in the case of Philoctetes.
Conclusion
Does Sophocles embody the Irenean soul-making theodicy in the characters and plot he weaves together in Philoctetes? In direct symbolism, perhaps not, but in essence and in principle, the play is a convincing Greek interpretation of the universal problem of evil, and an enlightening case for soul-making. The nature of their suffering, their actions and motivations, along with their character development and redemption exhibit the most crucial tenets of the soul-making theodicy: that man is inherently separated from the divine and must endure suffering in order to be fashioned into a being that is closer in goodness and righteousness, and that the divine not only permits but includes suffering in the narrative for this purpose.
Interpreting a Greek tragedy such as this in light of Chrsitian theodicy extracts, as Nietzche implies, the most valuable facets of humanity, which must include the purpose and value of suffering in order to remain a holistic picture. Theologian Frances M. Young puts the conflict of Greek tragedy and Christian theodicy in perspective in her essay, “Insight or Incoherence? The Greek Fathers on God and Evil:”
The difficulty is that on the one hand evil in the world presents a problem for theistic belief, and yet on the other hand, it is a necessary condition of any religion of redemption. Both theodicy and atonement are concerned with evil, but the approach is very different. One proclaims the conquest of evil, the other seeks to explain its existence; one asserts the power of God over evil, the other regards evil as a threat either to God’s goodness or his sovereignty.(58)
Understanding and differentiating these nuances primes one’s approach not only to other works of Greek tragedy and classical literature, but also his approach to works of theology and spiritual formation.
The beauty of Sophocles is his ability to transcend a single-view approach to evil and shed light on man’s crave for divine reason. The universal complexities he bestows on his characters in Philoctetes emphasize the tension between Greek and Christian approaches because of the resonance they create together. His characters not only find themselves wrestling with the physical and relational growth that their human experience gleans, but they also wrestle with the intangible, existential, and spiritual experiences of being human. Whether the voice of the divine comes from Heracles or Jesus Christ, the fact that the greatest Object in their journey carries inherent divinity, through which they must be made whole and righteous, serves as the reigning force of their soul-making.
Friedrich Nietzche, The Birth of Tragedy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 3.
David Grene, Introduction to “Philoctetes,” in Sophocles II, trans. by David Green (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1969), 396.
Nietzche, The Birth of Tragedy, 8.
Philip Irving Mitchell, “Theodicy: An Overview,” Dallas Baptist University, https://www.dbu.edu/mitchell/_documents/theodicy-overview-010.pdf.
Eleonore Stump, "The Problem of Evil," Faith and Philosophy: Journal of the Society of Christian Philosophers: Vol. 2, Iss. 4, 1985, https://bpb-us-w2.wpmucdn.com/campuspress.yale.edu/dist/c/1227/files/2015/11/Stump-TheProbOfEvil-1veqk4v.pdf.
Sophocles, “Philoctetes,” in Aeschylus; Sophocles; Euripides; Aristophanes, ed. David Grene and Richmond Lattimore, trans. David Grene, Second Edition., vol. 4, Great Books of the Western World (Chicago; Auckland; Geneva; London; Madrid; Manila; Paris; Rome; Seoul; Sydney; Tokyo; Toronto: Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc.; Robert P. Gwinn, 1990), 234.
Sophocles, “Philoctetes,” 234.
Elodie Paillard, “Odysseus and the concept of ‘nobility’ in Sophocles' ‘Ajax’ and ‘Philoctetes,’” Akropolis: Journal of Hellenic Studies: Vol. 4. 2020, https://link.gale.com/apps/doc/A677132882/AONE?u=avl_faulkneru&sid=bookmark-AONE&xid=f598c89f.
Thomas Van Nortwick, “Philoctetes: The Creature in the Cave,” in Late Sophocles: The Hero’s Evolution in Electra, Philoctetes, and Oedipus at Colonus (Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan Press, 2015), 44. https://doi.org/10.2307/j.ctv3znzg2.7.
Ibid., 48.
Ibid., 49.
Sophocles, Philoctetes, 248.
Ibid., 235.
Cecilia Cozzi, “Being Achilles’ Heir: A Psychoanalytical Reading of Neoptolemus in Sophocles’ Philoctetes,” Helios: Vol. 49 : Iss. 2. Fall 2022. https://eds.p.ebscohost.com/eds/pdfviewer/pdfviewer?vid=1&sid=a64709ae-3410-41a5-9eef-62e23898e5f0%40redis.
Ibid.
Ibid.
Ibid.
Ibid.
Sophocles, “Philoctetes,” 235.
Ibid., 236.
Hanna M. Roisman, “The Appropriation of a Son: Sophocles’ Philoctetes,” Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies: Vol. 38, Iss. 2, 1997. https://grbs.library.duke.edu/index.php/grbs/article/view/2661/5877.
Sophocles, “Philoctetes,” 238.
Ibid., 239.
Ibid., 240.
John Hick, Evil and the God of Love, originally published 1966, 2nd. ed. (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007), 256.
Gian Martinelli, “Immanuel Kant, John Hick, and the “Soul-Making”Theodicy,” Proceedings of Great Day: Vol. 2010, Iss. 1, Article 18, 2011. https://knightscholar.geneseo.edu/proceedings-of-great-day/vol2010/iss1/18.
Ibid.
Hick, Evil and the God of Love, 258.
Sophocles, “Philoctetes,” 252.
Ibid.
C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain (1940; repr., New York: HarperCollins, 2001), 103.
Ibid., 113.
Ibid.
Saint Augustine, The Confessions 2.2.4.
Sophocles, “Philoctetes,” 253.
David Grene, Introduction to “Philoctetes,” 396.
Sophocles, “Philoctetes,” 244.
Ibid.
Ibid., 247.
Ibid.
Ibid., 248.
Ibid.
Ibid., 252.
Ibid., 253.
Ibid.
Ibid., 240.
Lewis, The Problem of Pain, 93.
Ibid.
Ibid.
Sophocles, “Philoctetes,” 253
Marilena Makrionitou, “Supplication: Memory and Self-definition in Sophocles' Philoctetes,” Institute of Classical Studies, 2012. https://www.academia.edu/31559532/23_5_2015_Supplication_Memory_and_Self_definition_in_Sophocles_Philoctetes?email_work_card=view-paper.
Ibid.
Sophocles, “Philoctetes,” 246–247.
Lewis, the Problem of Pain, 54.
Makrionitou, “Supplication: Memory and Self-definition in Sophocles' Philoctetes.”
Ibid.
Manuel Losada-Sierra, “Memory and History: The Overcoming of Traditional Theodicy in Levinas and Metz,” Religions: Vol. 10, Iss. 12, 2019. http://www.mdpi.com/journal/religions.
Frances M. Young, “Insight or Incoherence? The Greek Fathers on God and Evil,” Journal of Ecclesiastical History: Vol. 24, Iss. 2, April 1973. https://eds.p.ebscohost.com/eds/pdfviewer/pdfviewer?vid=7&sid=f812e695-9a08-42bb-ba5a-69dfb01c8d1d%40redis.
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