Today's Topics: 

First, you need to know that I have not yet completed the tests. I grade them question-by-question, so no single test is yet completed. I will be finishing them in the next few days, and I will post new averages online that show your latest grades by the middle of the week.

The Age of Aries

The coursepacket document entitled "The Zodiac and the Ages of Time" suggests an interesting theory that all 12 sign of the Zodiac (which were almost universally adopted) projected their personalities onto the earth and its inhabitants.  If these constellations were representations of gods, then their messages must be adhered to.  Therefore, when the sun rose in the constellation of Leo back in 11,000 BCE, the mentality of the lion was implied by the stories and outlooks of the civilizations at that time.  As these Ages of Time pass, each new eon (2,160 years, or 1/12th of the Zodiac cycle) portended different mentalities and behaviors of the people below.  This is reflected in the literature of this unit consistently.

The Egyptians and Mesopotamians used these numbers to calculate important dates, festivals, and calendars.  Of the 360 degrees in a circle, one degree represents about one human life span (72 years, due to precession).  The number 72 is a precessional number, and it is incorporated into the architecture of temples worldwide, including those in Egypt.  If a human were to live for 30 degrees of precession (2160 years), he or she would move from one Zodiac age to the next.  This idea is not "New Age" at all.  It is actually some of the oldest wisdom on the planet.  This idea is also quite different from modern astrology, which attempts to predict an individual fate or personality personality based on birth signs.  The ancient Mesopotamian calculated the astrological calendar, and they understood that these changes in precession create climate change, and ultimately civilization change. Read more about these changes in the document entitled The Ages of Man.

One of these changes occurred when the Zodiac sign moved into Taurus.  During the Age of Taurus (the Bull), civilizations developed a lot of bull (or cow) iconography into their belief systems.  The ancient Persians believed in a great god, Mithra, who wrestled a bull to death, whose blood spilled onto the ground and created all life (that's the Persian creation story).  The precursors to the ancient Greeks, the Minoans, based their religions around Minos, the Bull.  In a few weeks we will see the Great Bull of Heaven in the Gilgamesh story.  The bull represented fertility, and thus a feminine symbol.  Additionally, Egypt is abound with bull and cow imagery too, such as Nut (represented as a cow) and the lapis bull (a form of Bata) from "The Tale of the Two Brothers." All major cultures during this period from about 4,500 BCE to 2,300 BCE were based on a goddess culture and worship of the female figures.

However, this only lasted 100 generations before a new Zodiac sign emerged at dawn at the vernal equinox.  The next age was the Age of Aries, the Ram.  Aries is a dominant masculine symbol, and it replaced the feminine agricultural interpretation of society with a more ruthless, aggressive, and male-oriented age.  This is the age of Abraham and Moses, as well as the Vedic gods of India.  Whether or not these cultures actively followed the lead of the star patterns is uncertain.  However, there is no doubt that a change in attitude was taking place. We will see several characters display the qualities of Aries (aggressive, authoritative, top-down, etc.), such as Gilgamesh and several characters in Egypt: Horus, Ra, and Thoth from the Osiris story. 

These cultures, as they grew, felt the need to reorganize their societies, depending more and more on the dominant male to control the culture. Interestingly, "Aries" means "I Am," which also can be written as YHWH ("Yahweh" -- the name for the Hebrew monotheistic Lord God).  The Hebrews (and many other cultures at this time) used this new masculine mentality to suppress the neighboring goddess cultures (such as the Canaanites) until they were enslaved by the Egyptians some time later.  Therefore, most of the Old Testament represents this new male-dominated approach at life, placing men as kings and women as servants.  Still today, we have preserved this male-oriented mentality in the West.

These feminine symbols (gardens, trees, and snakes) come from the Age of Taurus, and represent the mentality that nature will guide us and lead the way.  All answers to life itself can be found in the natural world in the reign of the Bull.  The Arian mentality centers itself around a powerful man -- a leader or king -- who establishes the laws and blazes the trails (think of Gilgamesh).  This also helps to explain why there is no angry God in Elohist-inspired chapter 1 of Genesis, nor is there any reference to pain or suffering.  It is the Yahwist chapters (Genesis 2-3) that demonstrate the forceful, angry, "jealous" male force called LORD God, who sets rigid rules and metes out life-changing punishments.  In essence, these are two different creation stories in Genesis that originate from two different perspectives.

The Cursing of Agade

Here is a document that will show you two pictures: the Hanging Gardens of Babylon (artist's depiction) and a color version of the map showing you where Agade is located: Babylon Pictures.

This myth begins with a scene that we will witness a lot in this unit: the slaughter of the bull. We have already become familiar with Lugalbanda, the Bull of Heaven, from the Inanna stories. In this unit, watch for bull killing references, suggesting the end of the Age of Taurus.

Agade is described as a thriving metropolis, with people, animals, foreigners, and everyone else milling about elbow to elbow. The society was wealthy and the people were happy. Inanna had been blessing the city with wealth and fertility, but soon we see that most of her donations and sacrifices come from the visitors to the city, not so much the locals. Early in the story, Inanna leaves the temple like a warrior, beginning the suffering. Enlil follows suit and curses the city. The second paragraph on the left side refers to the "statement" from the E-kur, Enlil's temple being "disquieting." This means that the animal sacrifice was problematic.

Often, animals suffer mutations that are bizarre. I recall a newspaper article when I was a boy describing a chicken that had 7 hearts and 9 livers, or some such number of extra organs. Since the sacrificial beast must be the best from the litter, any uncomfortable discovery would mean a bad sign. The art of interpreting the animal's innards was called "extispicy."

Naram-Suen was the king in charge, and he had a vision of future destruction of the city. He commissioned an animal sacrifice in the E-kur, but that one too was bad. Naram-Suen is described as having sold all of his royal garments and living in hiding for seven years. The criticism in the document is scathing. After the disappointing news from the second sacrifice, Naram-Suen gathers an army to dismantle the temple and take the gold. Where he takes it is unknown. This action, of course, is not received well in the heavens, where we see the Anunna gods unanimously curse Agade, citing the first version of "an eye for an eye."

Enlil sends down the invading armies from Gutium, located in eastern Iraq/western Iran. They take over Agade and lay waste to it. Chaos erupts and the city becomes an overgrown jungle. Naram-Suen is a failed king, having lost his kingdom to the Gutians, upon Enlil's bidding. Why would he destroy the temple, knowing that Enlil would get mad?

Wait a minute here. We may have been fooled. Turn back to The Sumerian King List. Look for Naram-Suen's name. Next, count how many kings followed him before the Gutians took over. Notice that Naram-Suen reigned the longest of any king in that dynasty. Therefore, if he was survived by nearly a dozen descendants before the Gutians attacked, then how could he have possibly been blamed for it? I suggest that the scribes who recorded this story were simply making Naram-Suen a political scapegoat, no matter what the reality. This proves that this title is a propaganda piece. Did you notice that the Gutians were described as dogs and monkeys?

Propaganda.

The Epic of Creation (Enuma elish)

The duality of society/nature is a male/female duality that we began witnessing last week, and we see it more clearly in The Epic of Creation.  The word "cosmos" is the ancient Greek word for "village," which implies "order," and this is opposite of "chaos" ("yawn," or indifference to order).  The ancient cultures struggled with the chaos of their lives, and they sought order in their societies as well as in nature.  As the population of the area increased, it became overcrowded to the point where they needed strong leadership to lay down the law.

We are witnessing the transition from the Nature goddess cultures to the societal law-oriented kingdoms that prioritized the male over the female. If you draw a circle with a vertical line splitting it in half, you will see the model for the dual structure of Nature: the light side and the dark side (think of the yin/yang). They are side-by-side, suggesting that the two parts of the duality are equal to each other. However, the model for this switches when we enter the male-dominated Babylonian culture. For this model, draw a circle with an horizontal line, and place the light side (the male side) on top, with the dark forces of the female on the bottom. This model shows a hierarchy, as the male is located in a superior position to the female. The dualities still exist, but their worth and value have been modified to fit into the new political structure of the kingdoms.

If you recall last week, we witnessed many subtle changes to the perspectives from the Sumerians to the Babylonians. With each kingdom, the kings were eager to prove their worthiness and greatness, especially in their historical documents. There is an old saying in politics that pertains to propaganda: if you say your version of the truth long enough and keep repeating it, it will tend to be remembered that way and be considered to be the truth. Our current political climate in America is hauntingly similar, as it has been for recorded history. No generation is immune to propaganda.

Some students wondered why the creation story appears at the end of the Dalley text. One reason is that this story is one of the later additions to the collection. The stories from the previous unit were written mostly before the ones in our current unit, and some of their differences can be spotted quickly (we see, for instance, Enki become Ea, etc.). Since we had read about a dozen stories that referred to creation, we must admit that the creation stories in this region were firmly established. However, if a king wanted to assert his dominion over his subjects, all he had to do was introduce a new creation story that shows a new god (Marduk) ascending over all the other gods to save the day. By changing the roles and associations of these gods, the Babylonians were able to inject a pro-male agenda that shows all power coming from the males, not the females (such as male gods giving birth).

The opening lines of The Epic of Creation (or the Enuma elish) show a struggle between two powerful forces: the fresh groundwater (Apsu, well water) and the salt sea (Tiamat), which often encroached upstream during times when the ocean level increased or the currents were unfavorable (such as those caused by the southerly winds).  Notice that Apsu (groundwater, male) is listed first, replacing the concept of the primordial ocean (female) that dominates Nature mythology. The characters Anshar and Kishar are versions of An and Ninhursag, but notice that they are ranked much lower on the hierarchy. In this culture, the younger generations were given greater power than the previous ones, suggesting that the younger citizens were acquiring more power and wealth than their fathers and grandfathers.

In the first tablet, Apsu (fresh water) is annoyed by the noise created by their children, the various gods and goddesses of the region.  His wife, Tiamat, becomes angered at Apsu for suggesting causing harm to their kids.  Before explaining the plot, you should understand that the collection of the older nature gods were referred to as the Annunaki (Apsu, Anu, Tiamat, etc.), while the generations of younger gods were collectively called the Igigi (Ea, Marduk, Inanna, etc).  Their vizier (the Arabic word for "advisor"), Mummu, sides with Apsu, and so the death of the children will begin.  One of their children, Ea, overhears his forefather's plan to exterminate the kids, so he takes action by killing Apsu himself, after conferring with the other younger gods. Is this self-defense?

Remember that this story is a metaphor, and it is NOT about patricide.  The murders in this passage should not be taken literally.  This story is a work of scripture, and so murdering of one's parents cannot be taken literally.  If we do, then the Mesopotamians appear to establish the opposite of morality, and clearly the opposite of "order."  Metaphorically speaking, this tale shows us that each generation will eventually grow old and be replaced by the younger, more ambitious progeny.  Perhaps if we switched the word "kill" with "replace," then the story makes more sense.  Remember that no life can be created if not for death.

Here is an example that should serve as a fair parallel to the "killing" in this reading.  Let's say that today you will inherit your father's business.  Undoubtedly, you would run the company differently than did your parents, if only for the fact that society changes from one generation to the next.  Of course you will not "kill" your folks when you assume control of the company, but their power, presence, and vision will be "replaced" by yours after they pass the torch of responsibility into your hands.  However, many times older people are reluctant to acknowledge that their better days are far behind them, and they continue to operate the business stubbornly.

If the children see that their dad is not as sharp as he once was, they may suggest that he retire, which may be received with indignation.  A senile business owner may begin to lose money through several bad decisions, making the children more adamant that their father step down.  That same idea seems to be happening in this story.  Many of these Mesopotamian myths show that the older generations were "out of touch," and had to be overtaken by the younger, more capable children.  The Mesopotamians understood that their children would inherit more wisdom from their ancestors, and therefore would have had a better chance of survival and success.

From the essence of these fresh waters, Ea and Damkina, his wife, give birth to a miraculous child, borne from the waters (a virgin birth).  His name is Marduk, and he is already a powerful newborn baby, being that he was created from the great creation fluids and the remnants of Apsu.  This kid grows up in the course of a few pages of text to become a mighty boy wonder, and he grows stronger by the minute.  Ea offers his son the mighty winds to blow over the ocean (Tiamat) and churn her up, thus causing her grief for not stopping Apsu's murderous plot.  The four winds appear to be Marduk's toys, if you will, suggesting that he is going to become a powerful god in the near future. Marduk's strength reminds me of Bam-Bam, from the cartoon The Flintstones. I can imagine Marduk lifting boats in the air and moving houses off their foundation. I also see a hint of Bruce Almighty, where Jim Carey played a character who received godlike powers for a week. If you woke up tomorrow with these powers, wouldn't you too play with them a while before settling down and being responsible? Me too.

This churning of the ocean upsets Tiamat to the point where she immediately takes on a new husband/lover, Qingu.  Let's talk about this guy.  If you have read Shakespeare's Hamlet, you know that the young Hamlet has just suffered the mysterious death of his father.  His suspicions grow when his mother immediately marries another man (her brother-in-law, Claudius).  Hamlet is quite upset that his mother apparently could discard her former lover so quickly, and suspects foul play.  Well, that is essentially what has occurred here.  Qingu was an obscure, powerless, and unqualified lesser god whom Tiamat plucked out of nowhere.  She offers him control over the armies and hands him the "Tablet of Destinies," which gives him control over life and death (think of a written version of the Holy me, or perhaps St. Peter's book at the Pearly Gates).  This would be like Hamlet's mother signing off her entire estate to her new husband before her murdered husband was in the grave.  You can also look at Qingu as the guy who won the lottery.  He might not have deserved to win the money, but now he has more power than he ever had dreamed of.  Watch him closely, however, because he is being used by Tiamat and set up to die.

In Tablet II, Ea goes to his oldest heavenly forefather, Anshar, for advice and help, but his great grand-dad tells him that he is too old to do anything about Tiamat, and that Ea himself should challenge her to a battle.  Ea, however, knows that he is not powerful enough to defeat Tiamat and Qingu, so he bestows this challenge onto his new son, Marduk, who now appears as a nearly-grown adult.  On page 243, Marduk demands from the other gods supreme power if they want him to fight the now-evil Tiamat.  The gods meet, have a few drinks, and decide to offer Marduk every power and weapon they own.  Marduk is the savior figure in this story, and he seems born into this destiny.  Qingu is not.

Marduk begins to test his powers in Tablet IV, making the stars and constellations appear and disappear at will.  He is now trained and ready for combat.  Page 251 lists his various weapons, such as bows and arrows, flame throwers, and the "flood-weapon."  Why would a flood-weapon be effective against Tiamat?  Simple -- the floodwaters of a river will flush the salt waters back toward the sea, purifying and cleansing the rivers of the poison.  Again, this story is metaphorical, and it really describes the battles that took place all around them in Nature.

Marduk enters the battlefield, fully armed, and easily defeats Tiamat by forcing the imhullu-wind down her throat.  She expands like a balloon, and that's when Marduk shoots an arrow into her belly. Let's look more closely at this. Notice that Marduk uses an arrow (that looks like a phallus) that he shoots into Tiamat's belly (womb). Here is the male defeating the female in the very essence of her womanhood, her womb. Kill the womb and you kill the concept of the woman.

He ultimately slices her into two halves, one that is lifted up to form the firmament of the sky, and the other that creates the Underworld below.  Think of a hamburger.  The meat patty is the Earth, and the two halves of Tiamat will be the bun that encompasses this new creation.  The henchmen run away in fear, leaving Qingu standing there shaking in his boots.  As I said before, he looks to be set up for failure here.  Qingu is ensnared in the net, and Marduk goes home a champion.

In Tablet V, the new hero Marduk continues to maintain order in the universe.  He had just killed the chaotic ocean waters, and now sets his designs on the stars and constellations.  On pages 255-256, Marduk creates the Zodiac, which is used to tell time (this would be shared by the Egyptians; the Chinese created their own Zodiac).  Notice the reference to the quarterly moon phases, with each new phase occurring every seven days.  This is the origin of our seven-day week, and it also was shared by the Egyptians.

Why is the number 7 so important to early cultures?  The answer is to be found in astronomy.  The Mesopotamians were avid astronomers, and the wise men of the villages would be charged with watching the night sky for changes that might offer clues to the future.  When looking at the night sky over the course of a night, you will see that the stars rotate around the axis point of the earth (in the northern sky).  Although they rotate, the constellations retain their shapes, even if they appear to bob up and down the horizon.  However, there were seven lights in the sky that moved independently, and sometimes in odd ways.  These lights are the seven visible moving objects in the skies: the sun and the moon, as well as the five nearest planets, all of which can be seen with the naked eye: Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn.  When the ancient astronomers wanted to remember how these seven lights moved over the course of a year, they invented stories about them and gave these lights names and personalities.  Since the ancients did not have paper to sketch out these planetary movemements, creating stories about their journeys became the methods of recalling major conjunctions and oddities, such as eclipses.

After Marduk further orders the universe, he is praised and given royal garments to wear (there's nothing like wearing wool robes in the summer!).  Shrines are built in his honor and accolades are showered on his ego.  Marduk instructs his fellow gods to build temples for the gods before he creates the first people.  Marduk wishes to place the yoke of the gods' labor onto the shoulders of the men and women (another common theme).  Marduk then establishes the community of Babylonia, giving these people a story about their city's origin too.  Of course, he orders the other gods to dig their own dirt and to build their own temples so that the people (who are yet to be created) can have a place to worship these nature gods.

In Tablet VI, Marduk finally takes action against Qingu.  Marduk asked the other gods who had started the war in the first place, and everyone says, "Qingu!"  Of course, this is not true, but Qingu is the last remaining figure that must be brought to justice.  Marduk uses the blood of Qingu to form the first human beings.  Marduk says that he will "change the ways of the gods miraculously, / So they are gathered as one yet divided in two" (Dalley 261).  In other words, men and women (a common dualtiy) will be created by the blood of one god, Qingu.  Notice that Marduk himself was created from the Apsu, the fresh water, and he embodied the force of Apsu in a new form, Marduk.  Men and woman are therefore thought of as offspring of the godly materials, although technically we appear to be the descendants of scapegoats, perhaps setting humans up for further tribulations.  But people in this story (and several others) were created solely to take over the labors and duties of the gods, who now believe that they deserve a bit of a rest.  So now we know our purpose in life -- to do the work of gods!

The tale concludes with Marduk receiving 50 holy identities, to reinforce that he is the new king of the gods, and will rule over the people in a fairer manner than the earlier deities had done.  The new has replaced the old, much like the Babylonians had replaced the Sumerians in history.  The Sumerians eventually disappeared, but their influences were borne into the next interpretation of the society, hence Marduk rising from the Apsu.

As an historical connection, you will notice that one of Marduk's names is Bel (sometimes spelled Ba'al).  Although he is a savior figure to the Mesopotamians, many neighboring cultures did not view him this way.  The ancient Hebrews, for example, considered the "devil" to be called Bel (or Ba'al, where we get the name Beelzebub, or Baalzebub -- Prince of the Devils).  Why would one culture consider another culture's great god to be a devil?  Well, one culture's heroes are another's enemies, and the difference between gods and demons is often indistinguishable (recall the "Earth Diver" creation story where the two black geese cannot be distinguished from each other). 

The Babylonian Theodicy

This dialogue between a poor sufferer and his religious friend is a classic morality debate from this time. The sufferer has lost his parents and is relegated to working slave labor for poverty wages. He claims to be a loyal and beneficent person, praying constantly to the gods who seem to ignore his plight. He bemoans the fact that many others have lived wicked lives and have escaped the law, yet the gods continue to reward them.

The heart of this debate centers around the assumptions of the two men. The sufferer assumes that the gods will reward good behavior while punishing the bad. While this is the assumption made in contemporary Western religions, the Mesopotamians were not like minded. The friend, on the other hand, has near total faith that the gods will come through for the sufferer, even if it takes a long time. This does not appease the sufferer who explains the evidence to the contrary. The friend concedes that evil is allowed to happen, but that the sufferer should not lose hope. No proof or reason is given, just the claim.

This is also why I asked you to read over the titles of law codes and moral proverbs. Although we didn't have time to cover this today, we will incorporate the discussion of Mesopotamian law (and Campbell's 5th chapter in The Power of Myth) in the discussions for the next few weeks.

Mesopotamian Laws (Hammurabi's Code and the Supplemental Law Codes)

This set of readings is mostly supplemental, mainly because it's difficult to discuss the laws as literature, but they provide some key insights into the Mesopotamian culture. To recognize that they had clear laws regarding marriage and divorce shows the culture to be advanced, especially regarding the treatment of women. In many cultures, such as ancient India, widows would lose all of their property (including the house and the children) to the dead husband's family, leaving the widow to be turned away poor and homeless, relegating them to beggar status. In Mesopotamia, however, women had property rights, suggesting that this male-dominated society was generations ahead of their time.

Many of the laws refer to occupational issues, such as the carpenter who builds a bad house that kills the occupant's daughter. The law states that the carpenter's daughter must be killed, even though she had nothing to do with the situation (except being related to her dad). Whereas the law seems to be especially fierce to this innocent bystander, it places responsibility upon the man to stand behind his work ... on pain of death. Might surgeons be more careful today if their malpractice resulted in harm to the other members of their family? This scenario is the quintessential "eye for an eye" mentality, and it predates the Bible by hundreds of years. Likewise, notice that the owner of a bull that escapes and kills has the responsibility to control his animal.

The one punishment that elicits a lot of reaction is the method of throwing the women into the river (sometimes voluntarily!). Yes, being tossed into the river will kill someone, especially when her hands and feet are bound with rope. If, somehow, a woman were to survive the ordeal, they would have been released. In 17th century America, the Salem witch trials would take this method one step further -- if the woman drowned, the assumption was that she really wasn't a witch and all this was a very tragic error. On the other hand, if the "witch" survived the drowning, then she must have been kept alive by a devil, so she was then burned at the stake.

I will not ask you specific questions about specific laws on the second test, but you should have a general understanding of the legal codes practiced in the Babylonian cities.

Announcements:

I am still working on the tests, and several students still need to take the make-up. I will therefore not have any scores to post over the weekend. I plan on posting your test scores and grades by the middle of the week. Since I grade all answers question-by-question, I do not have any single test completed. I will post the results the moment I have the scores calculated and the gradebook updated.

Due Next Time:

 

Atrahasis (Dalley, 1-38); READING GUIDE (200-203)

Lugal-e (The Exploits of Nintura) (204-216)

Quiz 5

Anzu (Dalley, 203-221); READING GUIDE (217)

 

COLOR CODES:
		-= Required		-= Supplemental