Slow Havamal: 41

[kylec]

The 41st verse says that friends ought to engage in generous mutual exchanges, giving each other weapons and clothing; that these generous acts are they key to a lifelong friendship.

A more thorough treatment of my views on generosity can be found here. What Odin seems to encourage is a specific type of generosity: conspicuous mutual exchange. That’s not to say other forms aren’t appreciated in Old Norse culture. But this one can be found all over the myths and sagas. Kings regularly lavish their brave retainers with gold rings, swords and shields, and other fine paraphernalia. Often, this is the distribution of loot after a successful raid. The spoils belong to one man in this case, but there’s an expectation that they will be shared fairly, or he may find himself with a lot less friends when the time for the next one comes around. The more a giver impoverishes himself, the greater the number of allies he can count on.

Here, though, we discuss the kind of friendships that even you and I, short on spoils, can share. Weapons and clothing receive specific mention. They’re not just examples of a category. Most men would own a weapon of some sort, as we saw advised in a previous verse, and presumably all wear clothing. I’m not sure what other possessions the Norse carried on their persons at all times, but these are the most prominent. The quality would go a long way to signal what sort of man to you were to those encountering you for the first time. A generous gift would allow both the receiver to demonstrate that he’s a fine specimen, and someone else thinks so; and that the giver is a generous man. In the essay linked above, I discuss how generosity can tap into collateral energy—stored reserves, not causal in the billiard balls on a table sense. Signals of this sort promote generous behavior both within the pair and the community that sees the fruits. Like the planet that radiates the light of the sun, the receiver gleams with a bright shirt and a tall spear from one who had more and parted with it.

This giving has to be mutual. Parasitism was probably frowned upon. There would no doubt have been times when a gift was too fine to be repaid, but I suspect both parties knew that at the exchange, and if they were good friends, the giver would gladly accept anything the friend could offer in return, even if it took a while and fell short of his own gift. But if I give something nice, and receive something nice in return, I’ve lost nothing in terms of monetary wealth. What we’ve done is exchange the way our wealth is displayed. Part of him became part of me, and vice-versa. Yet only a transactional mindset would see this as a wash. Clearly, something changed in a meaningful sense. My red shirt is gone, but I now have an excellent cloak.

As every Amazon shopper knows, sometimes it feels better to receive a new item than to actually own or use it. Our culture delights in conspicuous consumption. That’s a solitary act, though. What’s more, it’s devoid of all the immaterial components of the gift: surprise, being thought of with care, sacrifice, and even the random element we forfeit when we choose what we buy right down to the size and color. This practice of mutual exchange satisfies a desire for the new, but it connects it with a loving relationship. In no sense is it transactional. Practiced well, it feels more like an offering and a blessing. Both parties have to remain intimately aware of what value the other places on the things they give up and the things they receive, as well the time intervals between, to avoid being offensive via one-upmanship or stinginess.

Generosity is the key to lifelong friendships. That is, it opens a door previously closed, at least according to this poem. If we fail to relate to one another through mutual exchanges, maybe we miss out on a critical element that deepens a relationship. The givers of verse 41 constantly make themselves vulnerable, and then are made whole again—a different whole. Implicit is a deep trust. Nor is the friendship static. It follows the course of prosperity and down luck of the pair, and like a brilliant perennial, renews itself in yesterday’s field. So whatever else may happen, a good friend always knows the promise of mutual support—and the excitement of a sick new sword.