The twin principles Help Friends and Harm Enemies are fundamental to the structure of Oedipus at Colonus. At the outset Oedipus reveals Apollo’s prophecy which he wishes to fulfil, and whose fulfilment will constitute the action of the play. He is to find rest at Athens, ‘bringing profit by dwelling here to those who welcomed me, but doom to those who sent me away, driving me out’). The dual theme is restated more explicitly when he tells the chorus that if they help him they will gain ‘a great saviour for this city, and troubles for my enemies’. For the first 700 lines of the play, until Creon arrives, Oedipus’ two-edged hopes and emerging power to implement them are constantly stressed. He shows his benign aspect to the Athenians, to whom he promises soteria and benefits if they help him. The arrival of Ismene shows his love for his daughters, and through her message his power over Thebes is revealed. It gradually emerges how he intends to use that power, and the scene culminates in a curse on his sons and a prayer that he may indeed have the control over their fate which the oracle has promised him. Later, in his long speech to Theseus, it is made clear that the same event will simultaneously bring help to his friends and harm to his foes, and Theseus’ response shows a full understanding of this.

At the turn of the twenty-first century the chorus captured the attention of readers of Greek tragedy, especially anglophone scholars. In the field of cultural anthropology, the indirect influence of Victor Turner’s work on ‘theatrical performance’ was particularly significant. Inspired by Wilhelm Dilthey’s notion of experience as Erlebnis, and on the basis of ethnological field research on the initiation rites of male and female adolescents in the Ndembu tribe of present-day Zambia, Turner formulated a view of culture as a collection of individual experiences made available to society by means of expression (both verbal and physical). Theatrical performance is thus a ‘structured unit of experience’, a processual accomplishment or ritualized staging of the social drama.

A Greek hymn is selected among other examples in the corpus of Greek ‘magical’ papyri written in Egypt during the Roman Imperial time. Addressed to the Moon goddess in a plurality of forms and names, it draws a complex portrait of a powerful divinity for love affairs. The incantation weaves innovative denominations together with a poetic and ritual tradition in order to enact power. The poet realised a technical ‘tour de main’ to picture a many-faced goddess, tying heavenly and shining traits to the gloomiest and the deadliest, and entangling anthropomorphic characteristics to a patchwork of animal features. The poetic mastery over names and figures offers tools for the making of the divine inside the ritual performance, with the effect of rendering a vivid perception of the Moon goddess encompassing all her aspects.

The Ghost of Clytemnestra is the first afterlife figure in extant Greek literature to call for vengeance instead of ritual burial. Speaking for the sake of her own soul (psychē), the Ghost cites the ethical wrongs done to her as a mother killed by her own son and as a queen dishonored in the afterlife. The Ghost’s claims, however, have never been seriously considered by scholars. By contrast, the Erinyes do take up her cause, chasing down Orestes and arguing a universal version of Clytemnestra’s case in the trial. This chapter delves into the specifics of the Ghost’s rhetoric, her metatheatrical self-awareness, and her first-person depiction of the afterlife. The living Clytemnestra has already proven manipulative, politically usurping, and murderous; she continues these behaviors after death. Further, the Ghost’s lack of substance (as image, soul, or dream of the Erinyes) distances her from the living world. How can a character so far outside of societal norms demand serious ethical consideration?

The Eumenides contains one of the earliest descriptions anywhere of Hades as a universal judge. The Erinyes threaten Orestes with a continuation of his punishment after death by “the great assessor of mortals beneath the earth.” This passage contains the first extant catalogue of Hades’ ethical concerns: he is said to punish human–divine, parent–child, and guest–host transgressions. Although he “sees all things,” the name Hades derives from a-idein, literally the “unseen,” a moniker that exemplifies the human inability to confront this nonpolitical, absolute judge. By differentiating Hades from the Erinyes, this chapter draws out the dynamics of his character and ethical law. Like them, Hades’ connection with blood and punishment entails pollution, but unlike them, he is never subordinated to Athens. The analysis then contrasts Hades’ law to the “new law” that Athena creates. It argues that Hades represents an alternate, yet still valid ethical code that can be used to critique the jingoistic and bellicose politics of the trilogy’s ending.