Allan B. Chinen—Author, Lecturer, Psychiatrist

Commentary

While it is frustrating to interrupt the story just after it starts, the one paragraph beginning is very significant. It sums up men's situation at midlife!

How?

Questions to Consider

1. If you were in Lustig's situation, given only pennies and crumbs after 25 years of loyal service, what would be your reaction?
2. When have you been in Lustig's situation, dismissed after years of loyal labor—for a corporation, or a relationship?
3. What did you do in this situation, betrayed by someone you trusted?

Lustig's tale begins when he is discharged from the army with little reward for his years of service. Ex-soldiers like Lustig are often protagonists in men's tales, and their plight sums up the collapse of heroic ideals that men often experience at midlife.

After working long and hard toward a heroic dream, the way Lustig served his King, many men find themselves left in the lurch with nothing to show for their devotion. If a man attains his youthful ambitions, he often finds them dissatisfying and meaningless. If he fails in his dreams, he realizes there is no time left for a second attempt. Lustig personifies the post-heroic period in men's lives.

Commentary

Imagine yourself in Lustig's situation, discharged from the army with only a pittance for 25 years of work.

Questions to Consider

1. How do you think you would react to three beggars asking you for help?
2. How would you like to react?
3. When have you been in Lustig's plight, having lost everything you value, and then been asked to give more? What did you do? And why?
4. What is your reaction to St. Peter playing pranks on Lustig? When has life played such tricks on you?
5. How did you react?

Although he finds himself in a painful midlife crisis, Lustig does not give up. nor does he become bitter. (Remember, this is a fairy tale! These stories portray what ideally happens, not what commonly occurs.) He starts traveling the road and soon encounters St. Peter. The manner in which the two men meet is highly significant.

St.Peter disguises himself as a cripple, a beggar, an old man, and an ex-soldier, asking for food and money. Lustig can ill afford to give anything away, but he shares what he has, underscoring how generous he is.

In psychological terms, Lustig has developed his nurturing, generous side -- what Jungians call the "anima," a man's "feminine" element. Strictly speaking, though, nurturing is not necessarily feminine, since mythology is full of archetypal images of masculine nurturing. And anyone who has been a parent or observed parents taking care of children, know the distinctively different styles of nurturing that mothers and fathers have.

St. Peter's role in the episode is astonishing -- he is basically a Trickster, deceiving Lustig with various disguises. Yet most people think of Tricksters as con men, petty criminals and juvenile delinquents. St. Peter is none of those -- as an apostle, he is the pillar of propriety, the "rock" upon which the Christian Church is founded. If he is a Trickster, Tricksters could not be all that bad.

Indeed, as Lustig's story unfolds, it dramatizes virtually all of the essential-- and positive -- features of Tricksters found in world mythology. And "Brother Lustig" unveils an even bigger surprise -- the Trickster replaces the hero as a model for men at midlife, providing a new and totally unexpected ideal of the masculine.

Commentary

Questions to Consider

1. When in your life have you helped someone greatly, and then said, "I need no reward"?
2. Was your altruism from idealism, duty, love, naivety, calculation?
3. How has your idealism and altruism changed from youth to midlife?

After they befriend each other, St. Peter and Lustig travel without any definite destination. (St. Peter remains disguised, like a good Trickster.) Such wandering is typical of Tricksters around the world, like Hermes from Greece, Eshu and Legba of Africa, or Wakdjunkaga and Coyote in America.

Indeed, Hermes was the patron of travelers, and shrines were erected to him by the roadside, particularly at crossroads. Legba and Eshu are like-wise associated with crossroads and travel.

As a wanderer, the Trickster offers an excellent symbol for change, transition, and transformation. He sums up men's plight at midlife -- just when men reach some measure of success and comfort and expect to enjoy themselves, their lives are turned upside down. Familiar patterns collapse, forcing them to roam the world, seeking a new way of life, just like Lustig. This confused wandering contrasts with the confident quest of the young hero, who pours all his energies into one or two dreams. When those ambitions disintegrate at midlife, men shift from heroic quests to post-heroic roving.

The Trickster's wandering differs from that of the "puer" or "eternal youth." The latter is a man who remains an adolescent at heart, no matter what his chronological age, and who never makes or keeps commitments. He flits from place to place, job to job, relationship to relationship. Tricksters like Lustig have made commitments and kept them. Lustig served 25 years in the army before wandering the road! Eternal youths do not tolerate such commitments. They are "pre-heroic" and know little about loyalty, perseverance, or dedication, the traditional virtues of the hero and the patriarch. Lustig has mastered those qualities and now faces new tasks. His wandering is post-heroic, not adolescent.

As they travel together, Lustig and St. Peter come upon a sick farmer, and the apostle cures him. Such healing is common in fairy tales about midlife, and the importance of the theme to men in the middle years is readily apparent. On a literal level, men begin to suffer from various physical ailments. Sprains from weekend athletics take longer to heal, and heart disease exacts a grim toll. The youthful motto, "Victory at any cost!" becomes the midlife worry about simply surviving. Psychological healing also becomes vital, because men acknowledge their inner wounds at midlife and walk what Robert Bly so poignantly called, "the road of ashes." Healing is a post-heroic preoccupation.

Healing is also an attribute of Trickster figures. Although the fact is often overlooked, Tricksters bring vital healing arts to their people. Behind their pranks and buffoonery, Tricksters are healers and therapists, providing exactly what men need in maturity.

The Native American Trickster, Wakdjunkaga gave humankind important medicines, as did the Trickster is Legba and Eshu in Africa. (Legba also spread diseases to force people to buy his medicines!) Among the Zuni, the Newekwe healing cult was founded by a Trickster figure and provides healing ceremonies for the sick. Hopi Trickster-clowns, similarly, perform their outrageous actions to heal disease and reconcile social conflicts within their communities. Navajo healing ceremonies include tales of Coyote the Trickster as an integral part of the rite.

Commentary

Questions to Consider

1. What would you do in Lustig's situation -- admit that you ate the lamb's heart and broke your promise? Confront St. Peter about why he stayed away so long? Become angry and bluster?
2. When have you been in an embarrassing or incriminating situation, caught doing something you were not supposed to?
3. How about making an illegal left turn, breaking a promise to your child, lying to your spouse or cheating on income taxes? What did you do? Deny, confess, prevaricate, change the subject?
4. Lustig's story about lambs having no hearts might be ridiculous, but it certainly is creative. Do you 'think outside the box' as much as Lustig? Especially under pressure in a difficult situation?

After St. Peter cures the farmer, Lustig takes a lamb as a reward and cooks it. The apostle then plays a little trick on his companion, making Lustig promise not to eat anything until he returns, but then staying away so long that Lustig cannot resist his hunger. In effect, St. Peter entices Lustig into breaking a promise and lying. St. Peter even gave Lustig the pot to use for cooking, so the apostle's actions border on entrapment! What are we to make of this? And why is the story so specific about eating the lamb's heart?

The tale, I think, is making fun of the Church. The lamb is a traditional symbol of Christ which would presumably be known to the listeners of this German tale. The "sacred heart of Jesus" is also a frequent image in Catholic liturgy. So eating the lamb's heart mocks important religious icons. And it is no less than St. Peter himself who engineers this parody of a Christian sacrament! Here he plays a traditional role of Tricksters -- the sacred clown.

Since the lamb and "the Sacred Heart" are symbols of Christ, eating the lamb's heart brings up the macabre image of eating the heart of Christ. Yet this, doctrinally speaking, is what the sacrament of holy communion involves -- when worshipers eat the consecrated bread and wine, they partake of the body and blood of Christ. So the fairy tale presents a reductio ab absurdum of an essential Christian doctrine.

Sacred clowns appear at important religious ceremonies to make fun of the rites -- just as a jester often will mock the King, sacred clowns parody and insult high priests, and bishops. The most dramatic examples probably come from Native American tradition, where sacred clowns -- for instance, among the Hopi and Zuni -- would even defecate at solemn tribal rites! These Trickster characters, however, appear in virtually all cultures -- even medieval France and England had their version in the "Feast of the Ass." The purpose of the trickster's parodies is to shock people out of a complacent faith, or narrow-minded dogmatism -- to "de-construct" conventional ways of thinking and living. This is, in fact, an important task for men at midlife -- to become more flexible and expressive, less judgmental and patriarchal.

The Feast of the Ass turned the whole congregation into sacred clowns -- "worshipers" would parade around in their church, following someone impersonating a Bishop, who rode facing backwards on a donkey. The mock Bishop would recite the Mass, burning shoes instead of incense. Although hard to believe now, these raucous festivities even occurred in Notre Dame Cathedral of Paris, but were eventually suppressed by the Church. Echoes, nevertheless, remain in today's Mardi Gras celebrations: as the holiest week of the Christian calendar approaches, people gather in outlandish costumes and masks, to do things they would not normally think of doing.

Commentary

Questions to Consider

1. Picture yourself as Lustig, floundering in the river, but refusing to confess you ate the lamb's heart. When have you been in such a situation, about to drown in a problem, but refusing to apologize, admit error or change your opinion?
2. Who rescued you anyway -- even when you were stubborn, wrong, or too proud to ask for help?
3. If Lustig and St. Peter were parts of you, two elements of your psyche, who would Lustig be -- what is the part of you that gets you into trouble? Some fault, addiction, vice, blindness?
4. And what would be the part of you that rescues you? An inner voice, talent, charm, insight?

As a saint and an apostle, we would expect Peter to be a stern moral judge. Yet he relents, and saves the unrepentant Lustig. In effect, he puts their friendship and camaraderie above moral purity. The story emphasizes the importance of fraternity with its title -- "Brother Lustig."

The tale makes no reference to Lustig being a member of a religious order, and Lustig probably would not have had time to become one, since he has apparently been a soldier for most of his life. So "Brother" is probably not religious, and most likely alludes to the camaraderie of soldiers.

Here we come to an important image in men's tales from around the world, that of a Spirit Brother, a spiritual being who accompanies, advises, and often plays pranks on a man at midlife. The theme surfaces in many other folk tales, like "The King and the Ghoul" from India, as well as in classical literature, like Dante's Divine Comedy. In the latter, Dante suffers a midlife calamity and descends into Hell -- an apt metaphor for many men's experience at midlife. Throughout his ordeal in the Inferno, the spirit of Virgil, the ancient Roman poet, accompanies Dante, helping him pass safely through Hell's many perils. Moreover, Virgil treats Dante as a peer -- fraternity prevails not authority.

Such male camaraderie is deeply healing for men today. Modern culture considers intimacy to be feminine, and so men typically look to women to create and sustain relationships. Historically, though, male fraternity was an independent model of intimacy, often even more important than romantic love between man and woman. But we must distinguish two kinds of comrades -- the Spirit Brother vs. the Warrior Comrade. The two are easily confused because the brotherhood of warriors is better known, appearing as it does in the ancient story of Gilgamesh from Sumeria, The Iliad from classical Greece, The Song of Roland from medieval Europe, and more recently, in such films as, Saving Private Ryan.

The fraternity of war heroes is the stuff of youth, and that camaraderie fails at midlife. Quite simply, hero-comrades die young. Achilles and Patrocles fell at Troy, while Roland and Oliver perished in the bloom of youth. War buddies never have to grapple with the responsibilities of maturity, the problems of raising a family, and fears of growing old. This is the importance of "Brother Lustig" and other men's tales. The stories address the concerns of mature men and offer a new model of male friendship, no longer based on youthful heroism. Lustig is an ex-soldier, not a young warrior. The fraternity between Lustig and St. Peter is a matter of sharing new experiences and healing old wounds, rather than fighting common enemies -- which is the essence of youthful warrior camaraderie.

The brother archetype becomes important at midlife for several reasons. By this time, many men have seen one or both of their parents die. Conflicts with mother and father, so characteristic of youth, begin to fade, either because the disputes have been resolved or because they are no longer relevant. By middle-age too, most men have come into positions of authority at work or home. There are fewer superiors to fight with and more peers.

The fraternity of young men is heroic, that of mature men, post-heroic. In a typical story about youth, three brothers vie for the hand of a Princess and the right to succeed the old King. When the youngest brother wins the contest, the older ones plot to kill him. Tales of youth emphasize competitiveness between man, not camaraderie. The stories reflect the realities of patriarchal and heroic society, in which only one man can become the ruling patriarch, so every man fights for it. The Spirit Brother liberates men from this frantic, fratricidal competition.

Commentary

Questions to Consider

1. Imagine that you dreamed this episode of the story, and that all the characters symbolize different parts of you and your life. What would the Princess represent? That is, what is the most precious person or thing that you have lost in your life?
2. Did anyone or anything resurrect your Princess -- the person or thing you loved most of all in life but lost?
3. When have you felt as if a part of you died, and was chopped up and boiled to bones?
4. Who or what resurrected you?
5. If you accomplished something amazing, would you be like St. Peter and need no reward, or like Lustig, and want one? How do you balance your ideals and altruism versus your practical needs? How has this balance changed from youth to midlife?

After healing the sick farmer, Lustig and Peter arrive at the kingdom where the princess just died, and St. Peter resurrects the dead woman. The details of St. Peter's ritual are astonishing and puzzling. The apostle cuts up the corpse, boils the pieces, until only the bones are left and then resurrects the Princess from the skeleton. This gruesome rite clashes with Christian tradition -- where Jesus resurrected Lazarus, by simply commanding him to rise.

St. Peter's horrifying ritual emerges from an even more ancient tradition -- that of shamanism, which probably extends back to the origins of humanity. In shamanic tradition around the world, shamans are typically initiated by a dream, or some altered experience, in which they are boiled alive, cut to pieces, devoured by demons or torn apart by wild animals, until only bones are left. Then they are resurrected with the power to heal.

Shamanism is most prominent in hunter-gatherer cultures, like the Yakut of Siberia, the !Kung of Africa, or the Inuit of Alaska. This nomadic culture constitutes the original human culture, extending perhaps 100,000 years ago. With the invention of agriculture, probably around 10,000 years ago, priests displaced shamans. And as cities and empires were invented, kings and patriarchs suppressed shamanism even more, leaving its ancient traditions to linger in folktales and on the margins of society.

This ordeal provides a metaphor for many men's midlife experience: during a painful divorce, or "downsizing at work," men often feel like they are being boiled alive, and reduced to nothing but bones, the most basic stuff of the body. Lustig's story and other men's tales are important in reassuring men that there is life after this dark night of the soul -- indeed, making it through this painful period is an initiation, a passage from youth to mature man, from hero to shaman. And in world mythology, shamans are tricksters: as Joseph Campbell pointed out, the shaman is a human version of the divine trickster.

Tricksters, like Hermes or Eshu, are divine beings, who carry the messages of the gods to humans. Shamans do the same thing from the opposite direction, going to the gods with messages from humans. Tricksters and shamans share so many other traits, we might speak of a combined shaman-Trickster archetype.

The story is clear that it is a male power that resurrects the dead Princess -- St. Peter, a man, invokes the male Holy Trinity. Here we come to an important trait of Tricksters around the world: they represent a male life force. Indeed, the Trickster is often the original creator of life, as is the case among the !Kung of Africa with Gao, or among the Northwest Native Americans with Raven. Many Tricksters also have the power to raise the dead, and some of them, like Coyote of North America, even resurrect themselves. Moreover, the trickster is a life-giver in a social sense, bringing language, fire, and medicines to humanity, as well as vital inventions, like metal-working. These gifts make human life possible.

Frequently, the Trickster's vital force is expressed in sexual ways: he functions as a life-giver in a concrete, biological sense. The Trickster's phallic, procreative energy is well illustrated by the Greek Hermes, Shiva of India, and the African tricksters, Eshu and Legba: all of them are represented by sacred phalluses. The Yoruba tribe explicitly link Eshu to what they call "ase," the primordial life force.

The image of the Trickster as a primordial source of human life and civilization is vital to men in several ways. First, the trickster promises healing to men thrashing about at midlife, offering advice, camaraderie, renewal, and rejuvenation. In practical terms, the Trickster Companion is often a male therapist, because men today have few close male friends. Fortunately, with the men's movement, the Spirit Comrade increasingly includes an entire men's group.

The Trickster's primordial life force appeared in a dream I had several years ago. Because I did not understand the episode, I simply wrote it down and forgot about it. I recalled the dream while working on this chapter and recognized its parallels to "Brother Lustig."

In the dream, I was part of a group of men in a spaceship and we landed on an unknown planet. Our ship was damaged in the process, and we could not take off. The planet had breathable air, but was lifeless and lacked water. Fearful we would perish when our supplies ran out, we began searching for food and water. We soon discovered a cave and descended into it, hoping to locate a hidden spring. Using ropes and pitons, we climbed a long way down, but just as the last person reached bottom the rope broke. Without a way up, we were trapped in the cavern, and with supplies sufficient only for a few days we were desperate. Yet as the days went by, miraculously the food and water in our packs never gave out. We eventually discovered why.

In our explorations through the cave, we came across the first evidence of intelligent life on the planet. It was a stone wall from which protruded a silver metal rod, about 30 feet long and a foot wide, constantly rotating. I knew in that way peculiar to dreams that this machine was hundreds of thousands of years old, and that it was a generator of some sort. Its power was respon-sible for our food and water never running out. Soon after coming upon this strange device, we found our way back to the surface of the planet. And with the help of the machine, we were able to make the desert planet fertile and colonize the new world.

In the dream, I start off with a group of men in a spaceship. Being part of a male space crew brings up the theme of masculine camaraderie, and recalls Lustig's situation at the beginning of his tale: he is a soldier in an army. The spaceship emphasizes the masculine theme, since the heavens are usually the province of male deities. In the dream, we are stranded on a barren planet, descend into a cavern, and become trapped there. The episode symbolizes the collapse of the heroic paradigm, analogous to Lustig being abandoned by his king or Dante descending into Hell. Stranded in the cavern, we have only limited food and water, but miraculously our supplies never run out. Our backpacks continue to sustain us, and the source of the magic turns out to be a massive silver rod rotating deep within the earth. Although placed horizontally rather than vertically, the cylinder is a giant phallic symbol, a high-tech version of the ancient Hindu lingam, personifying Shiva, the Hindu trickster god. The silver rod represents a masculine source of life and energy linked to Tricksters. Machinery, I might add, is consistent with the Trickster's role as an inventor, giver of fire, and a patron of metalworking.

This space-age dream thus repeats an age-old drama: male comrades descend into the unconscious and encounter the primordial, life-giving masculine energy of the Trickster. The themes are elusive and highly disguised, but that is characteristic of the Trickster!

Second, as a thoroughly masculine image of the life force, the Trickster Brother counteracts the mistaken view that only the feminine and the Great Mother Goddess have the power to give life. Many recent discussions of the Goddess, in fact, make her out to be the sole source of life, as if the ancients were ignorant of sexual biology. But both mythology and archeology make clear that the Trickster is at least as old an archetype as the Mother Goddess. Yet the Trickster is not the Father God of patriarchal tradition. The Trickster represents an older, pre-patriarchal source of masculine vitality, and offers an alternative to both the Great God or Goddess.

The earliest records of the Trickster lie in Paleolithic cave paintings, from around 30,000 years ago -- one of humanity's oldest known symbolic expressions. In the deepest recesses of the chambers, unknown artists created half-man, half-animal figures who are usually dancing. (They are identified as male because of the erect penises they sport. Some cave sites, like that of Bedeilhac in the Pyrenees, use stalagmites as penises for male figures!) The most famous example is the "dancing shaman" of the Trois Frères caves in France, but similar images have been found in India and Africa.

These ancient figures are usually interpreted today as shamans. Support for this view comes from contemporary hunter-gatherers, like the San of Africa, who portray half-men, half-animal dancers in their art, identifying the beings as shamans. They also believe that a man can take the form of a lion during shamanic hunting dances, and an ancient site of rock art in the San area depicts a half-man, half-lion figure, engraved some 26,000 years ago. European dancing shamans often have lion traits, too, emphasizing the archetypal nature of the half-man, half-animal theme.

Paleolithic male figures feature many of the basic traits of tricksters. First of all, tricksters commonly take animal forms, like Coyote of North America, or Ananse the Spider from Africa. Tricksters also are known for dancing -- Legba, and African Trickster, was made chief of the gods, because he alone could play the flute and the drum while simultaneously dancing. (The dancing shaman of the Trois Fréres cave, I might add, appears to be playing a flute.) Similarly, Tricksters like Hermes, Legba, Eshu and Shiva are often symbolized by sacred phalluses, continuing the prominent phallic theme in the ancient dancing shamans.

Commentary

Questions to Consider

1. Picture yourself as Lustig. You have boiled the Princess until only bones are left, but do not know how to resurrect her. You are frightened that her father the King will hang you for your failure. What is your reaction? What would you do?
2. When have you been in a similar situation, where you made a mess of something, and had to be rescued? Who or what part of you rescued you? Who tolerated your failings and mistakes?
3. When have you rescued someone else, and tolerated their great failings?

After St. Peter resurrects the first princess, Lustig tries to do so on his own -- and of course bungles the attempt. While we may laugh at his foolishness, we have to admire his willingness to try something new at midlife. How many middle-aged men have the courage to take a radically different path in life, risking failure and embarrassment?

Luckily for Lustig, St. Peter rescues him by resurrecting the Princess. So once again, St. Peter overlooks Lustig's faults to help him. Brotherhood means more than moral purity.

Personally, I find Lustig's example reassuring -- despite his blunders, foolishness, and poor judgment, he still recovers. This, in fact, is characteristic of Tricksters -- they make the most stupid mistakes, fall into the worst predicaments, and yet survive, often with divine intervention. They have a certain trust in the world, the ability to laugh at themselves, and a link to the divine -- three important lessons for men at midlife.

While the fairy tale may seem like pure fantasy -- wish fulfillment for men in trouble at midlife -- it is not. In fact, a real-life example which parallels Lustig's tale in a striking fashion comes from the life of Carl Jung.

Jung joined the psychoanalytic movement in its early days, and soon became Sigmund Freud's heir apparent -- the leader that Freud hoped would disseminate psychoanalysis throughout the world. Although initially quite close, the two men eventually had a falling out, overtly over theoretical differences.

Freudians and Jungians, naturally, have differing explanations for the split. Many Jungians say that Jung broke with Freud because the latter insisted on interpreting all religious experiences in terms of unconscious sexual drives, whereas Jung felt that there was an independent spiritual aspect of the psyche. Some Freudians claim that Freud rejected Jung after learning of an affair Jung allegedly had with one of Jung's patients. But the reason for the split is probably less important than the result.

Jung resigned his leadership positions in the international psychoanalytic societies, and split with Freud, determined to pursue his own ideas about psychology. With his professional career apparently in shambles, Jung soon plunged into a midlife crisis, and for a time even contemplated suicide, keeping a pistol in his desk drawer. Like Lustig trying to resurrect the dead Princess on his own, and bungling it badly, Jung set out to explore the human unconscious, just as Freud had done -- and quickly lost his way.

During this time, however, Jung began to have dramatic dreams and fantasies in which a principal character was a man with the wings of a kingfisher bird and the horns of a bull. Jung became fascinated by this figure, named him "Philemon," and often carried on imaginary conversations with him while taking walks. From these visualizations evolved Jung's psychology of archetypes. So important was this interaction with Philemon, Jung considered him his "inner guru," who taught him everything he was to learn about psychology.

Philemon led Jung out of his midlife crisis, just as St. Peter rescued Lustig -- repeatedly. While less playful and humorous than St. Peter, Philemon is also a Trickster. In painting Philemon, for instance, Jung portrayed him as a "herm," a phallic column with a man's head on top. As mentioned before, Hermes, Eshu, Legba and Shiva are traditionally represented by such a sacred phallus. Jung also explicitly considered Philemon to be a primordial masculine energy, which is exactly what the Trickster personifies. Moreover, Philemon essentially acted as Jung's guide to the unconscious, introducing him to both its demonic and sublime aspects -- and this is a central function of Tricksters, guiding humanity into the underworld and the overworld, Hell and Heaven.

A story which parallels "Brother Lustig" in an astonishing way comes from India -- "The King and the Ghoul." Here, too, a man at midlife -- in this case a King -- gets himself into a mess, by naively promising to help a holy man. The latter, however, is actually an evil necromancer who plans to kill the King. Fortunately, a Trickster spirit appears and helps the King escape his predicament, while turning it around to his advantage -- and the benefit of humanity.

After rescuing Lustig, St. Peter gives him the magic knapsack, ostensibly to prevent the ex-soldier from trying to raise the dead again. But this is surely an invitation to trouble -- who knows what Lustig might do with the magic power? St. Peter's gift recalls how the apostle gave Lustig the cooking pot to make the lamb stew, and then tempted Lustig to break his promise and lie. Is Peter doing something similar here?

Commentary

Picture yourself as Lustig, hungry and penniless at the inn, suddenly remembering your magic bag, and using it to steal the two geese.

Questions to Consider

1. When have you been in a situation like this -- with the need, opportunity, and means to steal something?
2. What did you do? What was your reaction?
3. What is your magic knapsack -- an unexpected magic gift you gained from midlife, perhaps a new sense of freedom, a forgotten talent, a deeply rewarding relationship?
4. Who or what gave you this gift? What did you do with it? Did you initially forget about it, like Lustig?
5. How have you shared your magic gift? What young men have you helped out?

This episode is astonishing and perplexing. For one thing, Lustig has had his magic pack all along, yet he uses it for the first time only when he is out of money and hungry. He has not wished gold and jewels to appear in his pack to make himself rich and powerful. Who could resist such temptation? It would be like having a winning lottery ticket, and never cashing it in! What might be the meaning of this?

Moreover, Lustig uses the magic pack to steal the two geese from the innkeeper. Yet presumably, he could have created two geese magically, or for that matter, conjured up any kind of feast he might imagine. So why does he steal?

The answers lie in the nature of Tricksters. First of all, they love to steal -- but it is not for their own enrichment. Tricksters typically give what they take to the less fortunate. This is the Robin Hood principle -- robbing from the rich to give to the poor. Lustig does exactly this when he steals the two geese from the innkeeper -- who appears to be a prosperous property owner -- and then shares his largesse with the two hungry young workmen. Behind the Trickster's thievery is not greed, but rather generativity -- the instinct to give, especially to the younger generation, rather than to take for oneself.

Surprisingly, Lustig's gift to the young men backfires, and the two youths are beaten by the innkeeper. The story makes an important point here, present in other folk tales of midlife: there is no free lunch for youth, because they must work, learn discipline, and make commitments. But after years of labor and loyalty, magic unexpectedly returns.

The Trickster's impulse here is the reverse of the hero and the patriarch. Heroes basically go out on an adventure, seeking their fortune, and end up with great treasure, power, and even a kingdom of their own. Sometimes heroes receive this reward for killing a terrible villain, while at other times they frankly steal the treasure, usually from somebody who is depicted as evil, like a wicked witch. Either way, their story revolves around personal gain. Patriarchs, for their part, defend what they have gained, usually seeking even more, and watching warily for would-be thieves (namely young hero wannabes). The Trickster represents a post-heroic and post-patriarchal developmental stage -- after a man has proven himself, and garnered some success. Then the task is to turn around and give back to the world (but not in a pious, sentimental or self-righteous manner -- rather with pranks and humor).

Tricksters, in fact, oppose accumulations of wealth, property, power, or knowledge. They favor the circulation of all these resources among people -- exchange rather than accumulation. In mythology, Tricksters are the patrons of trade, rather than conquest or wealth. They favor currency, in the sense of flow, rather than piles of money.

The reason for this lies in the origins of Tricksters in nomadic gatherer-hunter culture. When a band or tribe move regularly to different territories, depending on the season and availability of food, having much property is a hindrance -- more stuff to lug around. Moreover, food supplies are often unpredictable, so reciprocated sharing is the rule. Successful hunters, for example, share their bounty with everyone in their group, with the understanding that when they hit a patch of bad luck, other hunters in their band will share with them. The same holds for the band or tribe itself -- they share their food with other bands in need, receiving help, in turn, when they require it. Here Tricksters offer an important paradigm for contemporary post patriarchal culture. We have all become nomads -- moving from job to job, and relationship to relationship, not because we are flighty or unstable, but because we live so long, and situations change so rapidly. The Trickster embodies the ideals of such a nomadic life -- sharing, humor, fraternity and play.

Commentary

Put yourself in Lustig's place, nonchalantly staying in the haunted castle, and then desperately fighting off the demons.

Questions to Consider

1. What monsters in your life have you been nonchalant about -- even careless?
2. How about overeating? Working too much? Neglecting family and friends? Money? Alcohol? What gift, analogous to Lustig's magic knapsack, helped you deal with these demons? A spiritual discipline, like meditation? Unconditional support from a spouse or friend?
3. What is the haunted castle in your community, neighborhood, or workplace that needs to be cleared out?
4. What are the demons that cause problems in these common spaces? In what ways have you been nonchalant, uncaring, unbelieving about these demons

On his travels, Lustig comes to the castle haunted by demons. He stays there, despite warnings against it, and then battles the devils. This is a typical event in tales of heroic young men, but several factors make Lustig's fight with the demons different.

First, he loses. The demons overpower Lustig until he thinks of his magic knapsack at the last minute. Symbolically, fighting and the heroic approach fail him. On the other hand, the Trickster's way, symbolized by the magic knapsack, saves him. Second, Lustig does not battle the demons to win glory or treasure. He simply seeks shelter in the castle. Comfort is his goal not conquest, something post-heroic men will understand. After clearing the castle of the demons, Lustig even declines a reward from the grateful lord, the first time Lustig refuses one! Lustig prefers to wander the road. He voluntarily chooses what was forced on him at the beginning of the story when he was summarily discharged from the army and had to roam the world.

We usually do not think of Tricksters fighting demons, especially since modern culture portrays Tricksters as foolish and impotent -- think of the hapless Coyote always losing to the wily Roadrunner in the cartoon television series, or the Wizard of Oz, who turns out to be a rather inept humbug. Yet folklore from around the world consistently depicts Tricksters fighting demons. Even more important, and even less known, killing demons is their mission or calling given to them by the Supreme Being. They are charged with getting red of monsters to make the way safe for humanity. Eshu, the African Trickster, for instance, is called "road-maker," because the Creator sent him to clear the way of demons and disease, so that humanity could safely settle the world. Similarly, Wakdjunkaga, the trickster for the Winnebago tribe of North America, was sent by Earth-maker, the Creator, to kill monsters and clear the way for humanity.

Wakdjunkaga would typically forget his calling, and start playing pranks, lying, stealing, fornicating -- until he would suddenly remember his mission, and start killing monsters. Then he would forget, start doing mischief, lying, cheating and so on, until he had another moment of insight, and would start once more to battle humankind's enemies. The story is profoundly reassuring for men at midlife, who -- like Lustig-- frequently stray and make mistakes.

Note that the motivation behind the Trickster's battle with demons differs sharply from that of the hero. The hero seeks his fortune, and ends up winning a treasure, the hand of the Princess, or the whole kingdom itself. Fighting demons is for his own gain as much as it is for a community. The Trickster's fight, on the other hand, is principally for humanity, rather than himself. Personal gain is not the main concern, as Lustig makes clear by turning down the reward the lord of the castle offers him for ridding it of demons. The shift from the hero's ambitions to the Trickster's generativity provides a major answer to the question that opened this web site: what do we do when the stories of youth -- filled with dreams and ambitions -- end or fail. The Trickster says it is to remember one's original calling, one's mission to help humanity.

After trapping the demons in his pack, Lustig asks a smith to beat the devils to death. This brings up an intriguing point. Lustig initially uses the magic pack to obtain food-- stealing the two geese -- making it a source of nourishment. Later, he uses the knapsack violently, trapping the demons in it and killing them. The knapsack is nurturing first and only later violent. The same theme appears in other stories of men at midlife. Taken together, these tales emphasize that the primordial masculine power of the Trickster is primarily nurturing and only secondarily violent-- the opposite of the hero or patriarch.

Commentary

Questions to Consider

1. If you were Lustig, which road would you choose -- the hard one to heaven or the easy one to hell? When have you been faced with such a choice? What did you do?
2. When have you been a contrary, like Lustig, doing something opposite of convention, and which seemed crazy or bad? Why did you do that -- out of sheer perversity, anger, despair, laziness, inspiration, a sense of Calling? Or if you've never done anything that defies reason, ethics or good taste, why not?
3. What is your reaction to Lustig tricking himself into heaven? Do you think he deserves to stay there?
4. When have you been in a similar situation, where you arrived at some success or reward but felt you did not really deserve it? Did you feel guilty, like an imposter? What did you do?
5. Who honored you anyway, the way St. Peter let Lustig stay in Heaven? Who has overlooked your deficiencies or given you another chance?

At the end of the tale, Lustig wonders where he will stay for eternity and asks a hermit for advice. Lustig, of course, then takes the short, easy road to Hell, rather than the long, hard one to Heaven. He does the opposite of what he is supposed to -- he has essentially become what Native Americans call a "heyoka," or "contrary," who deliberately violates all social conventions. Contraries dramatize the Trickster's function of making fun of social convention, ideally to provoke people into "thinking outside the box."

This might seem like a fun thing to do, and certainly what adolescents love to try. However, in Native American tradition, being a contrary is a very burdensome calling, forcing the person to give up whatever prestige and authority he may have achieved, and live on the margins of society. Nevertheless, being a heyoka is a divine calling, usually heralded by dreams of Thunderbeings, and if an individual ignores the summons, insanity, illness or death results.

Lustig ends up in Heaven, because his first choice of eternal residence did not work out -- he was refused entry into Hell. The reason is significant. The demon who managed to escape from Lustig's magic bag became the gatekeeper to Hell, recognized Lustig and realized that Lustig might take over Hell with his magic knapsack. Had Lustig been more thorough in killing the demons, he would never have made it to Heaven. Note that the youthful hero would not be so sloppy, and let a demon slip away -- heroes tend to be puritanical perfectionists. Tricksters, by contrast, accept human foibles, excuse mistakes, laugh at failures, and tolerate evil. St. Peter, of course, does exactly that when he lets Lustig stay in Heaven. Tricksters like Lustig and St. Peter personify a more flexible, forgiving superego, which contrasts with the rigid, idealistic morality typical of young males. The transition from one to the other is a challenge for mature men.

Note that Lustig is able to go from Hell to Heaven -- he is able to travel between different worlds. This is characteristic of shamans and Tricksters, and signifies that Lustig has indeed become a first-rate shaman-Trickster. Even more dramatically, Lustig tricks his way into Heaven. This is a scandalous way to enter paradise, but typical of the Trickster's sacrilegious humor. It is also the final step in Lustig's midlife initiation into Tricksterhood, a process that St. Peter began with the pranks he played on the ex-soldier at the beginning of the story.

Such midlife initiation into Tricksterhood can be found in many aboriginal cultures around the world. Although the male puberty rite is often considered the archetypal male initiation, it is usually only the first in a series of initiations -- as men mature, they move through specific, age-related male lodges.

The Adelaide aborigines of Australia, for instance, have five stages of manhood, and men are eligible for the "bourka," the highest degree, only when they are "grey-haired." Similarly, tribes like the Wanika and the Wadai in Africa have separate societies for middle-aged men and young males, as did Native Americans like the Sioux and the Blackfoot.

Fraternities of young men are typically heroic and war-like, but societies of middle-aged men shift direction dramatically, and generally focus on transmitting tribal traditions and lore to the next generation, mediating disputes, and organizing the important spiritual rites of the culture. Members of these mature male lodges are generally respected warriors or chiefs -- they have successfully passed through the hero stage.

Most of these fraternities also accept any man who has proved himself, irrespective of his social status outside the fraternity. Commoners thus mingle with nobles, even in cultures where this is rare outside the lodge. (Lustig dramatizes the theme by traveling with no less a personage than St. Peter, the premier apostle.) Mature fraternities thus abandon the hierarchy typical of heroic and patriarchal organizations.

Initiates of the Poro, Ukuku, and Mwetyi lodges in Africa, for example, travel safely through different tribal territories, despite warfare between the tribes. The Trickster's fraternity over-rides patriarchal boundaries or heroic loyalties to a clan. Lustig symbolizes this aspect in a subtle detail. As a soldier, Lustig fought to defend or expand the boundaries of his country. As a wanderer, he travelled from kingdom to kingdom, ignoring the borders for which he fought earlier.

Within the privacy of their secret lodges, mature men become playful and relaxed. They tease each other and play pranks, like Lustig and St. Peter. Temporarily liberated from family and tribal responsibilities, men are free to be themselves and experiment with new roles. With such a playful, scandalous and outrageous spirit, it is not surprising that the patron of most mature men's societies is explicitly a Trickster. Ogo-Yuguru the Trickster for the Dogon tribe of Africa presides over their male Society of Masks; Minabozho the Hare-Trickster of the North American Ojibway established the Medewiwin society; and Wakdjunkaga set up the Medicine Rite lodge of the Winnebagos. The role of the Trickster in mature fraternities is often very concrete, because initiates are taught various tricks to fool their fellow tribesmen. Lodge members become Tricksters!

For instance, the Whare Kura, a Maori secret society, teaches their initiates ventriloquism, while the men's lodges of the Kwakiutl in Northwest America instruct their members in sleights of hand. Such trickery recalls how Lustig learned to steal after St. Peter gave him the magic knapsack, and the pack itself is the ultimate tool for sleight-of-hand!