Stude Guide: TEST 2: The Age of Aries

Today's Topics: 

Lugal-e (The Exploits of Nintura)

This story tells the tale of the god Nintura who defeated the Asag, basically the demon of the mountain. We have already seen why the mountains are so vilified by the Mesopotamians, having been invaded by the Gutians and other peoples who went to war over resources in Mesopotamia. This myth explains how Nintura, with the aid of his battle axe, Shar-ur, defeated the mountain and recycled its remains and separated its stones into two categories: the useful and unuseful stones.

The opening incantation to this myth provides a clear vision of the male-dominated mentality of this tale. Look for the following key words in the opening lines of the story that represent a clear affiliation with the masculine: "king," "superior," "all alone," "deluge," "Hero," and "Lord." Notice that Nintura is "reaping like barley the necks of the insubordinate." Instead of associating with fertility or birth, we now see an affinity with the harvest (or death). By focusing on the destructive aspects of the cycle of life, we see that people are most able to control death, as Nature appears to keep the mysteries of birth and life out of our complete control. Nintura can kill the mountain, which Nature somehow failed to destroy.

The story tells of the chaos created by the mountain (or the people from the hills). The other gods run away, fearing the power of Asag, but Nintura will heroically enter the battle by himself, separating his identity from the others. Battling against the "rain of coals and flaming fires," Nintura plays the role of the hero, bringing order to a world filled with chaos. Nintura will soon be called "Lord," much like Marduk was, suggesting that the Babylonians were searching for more powerful hero figures, and perhaps suggesting a slow shift toward monotheism, where the disparate gods were combined to generate newer gods with greater powers that could be projected onto other societies, striking fear into the hearts of the enemies.

Interestingly enough, Shar-ur had been the one to suggest this action to Nintura, perhaps eliminating any blame from him for the destruction that he may cause. This reminds me of a 9th century French national epic, called The Song of Roland. In this story, a Christian knight, Roland, serves his king Charlemagne as the French battle with the Moors (Muslims) from Northern Africa who have swept across Spain en route to France. Since the Moors are Muslim and the French Christian, we can see a battle of religions depicted here. The point of this example is that Roland slaughters the Muslim invaders to glorify his god. Yet, Christianity teaches us to avoid killing and judging others, so how does Roland justify his murder? Well, his sword has a name too, and it is the conduit of God's power. In other words, God controls the sword blade, not Roland, so Roland can be absolved of all wrongdoing. Whether this is political spin doctoring or simply backdoor justification used to kill Muslims is your guess.

Later in the story we begin seeing many references to the war as a "deluge" and a "flood." I have found that many references to floods in this literature appear to be metaphors for wars or battles. Sometimes it is difficult to separate the two and interpret the stories correctly. Perhaps many of the tales of the Great Flood really refer to fighting rather than flooding. This becomes evident when Enlil grants Nintura permission to attack Asag, calling Nintura "the Deluge," describing later how Nintura "yelled like a storm." You'll see these references everywhere.

As an interesting side note, I briefly explained a philosophy that Campbell and Moyers discuss on pages 98-99 in The Power of Myth.  It is the concept of the "I" and "Thou," promoted by 20th century Jewish philosopher Martin Buber.  Buber's theories explain that people make connections to their world in both personal and impersonal ways. 

Image three concentric circles (three circles drawn inside each other).  The center circle represents the "I," which is a person's mind and body, and it represents the psychological center of one's universe.  As children, we look at the world as something that revolves around us, and therefore we start out as egocentric beings ("It's all about me ...").  However, we soon learn that we live in a large world, but these objects that surround us may or may not be close to us.  The second circle that surrounds the "I" is called the "Thou," which is simply the old spelling for the word "you" used in the Middle Ages (such as you would see in the King James Bible from 1611).  Things that fall into this circle are the things that we treasure and value.  In other words, they are extensions of ourselves, and so we willingly accept them and care for them.  These may include people (families and friends) as well as objects (your car, cell phone, clothes, etc.).  Anything that you care about can be called a "Thou."  The outer circle, however, is the largest, and it represents the things that mean nothing to us, represented by the third person pronoun "It."

To provide a few examples, just look at how people operate in the world.  I onle was stopped at a traffic light when I noticed that the car in front of me had a bumper sticker that read "Love Your Mother Earth," a common environmental message. However, while the light was red, the driver opened his door and emptied his ashtray on the pavement. Someone who tosses his cigarette butts out of his car window is treating the earth as an "It."  However, campers who meticulously clean up their campsite and leave it as they found it are said to treat the earth as a "Thou." 

I also recalled a time when I was a young boy when I had a small stuffed animal, a puppy dog, that I inherited when I was 7 or 8 years old. My grandmother bought it for my 3-year-old sister, although she somehow didn't want it for her own. so I took possession of it since my grandmother appeared hurt by my sister's rejection of the gift.  I kept this stuffed animal beside my pillow in my bed, as many kids do.  One morning, I awoke to find the stuffed dog missing.  I looked around and found it on the floor beside my bed, face down.  Immediately, I felt a rush or adrenaline and an outpouring of compassion for the poor little stuffed doggie that must have been "hurt" by the fall.  However, upon thinking through this further, I questioned why I had so much compassion for a piece of cotton and polyester.  Whatever the reason, I "loved" this little toy, and therefore treated it as a "Thou," not an "It."  Why id this important?  Because, in myths, all things are to be treated as a "Thou," not an "It." 

In The Epic of Creation, w hen Marduk cuts Tiamat's body up, he is not doing this out of anger, spite, or hatred.  Rather, he is playing his role as a shaper of the world, while Tiamat willingly accepts her transformation from primeval ocean to the greater environment of the earth. Essentially, however, he treats her as an "It." In mythology, the gods do not die, but rather are recycled into different forms, so there appears to be no personal sympathy for retaining Tiamat in her present form.  Their demises are not brought upon them by personal acts, but rather natural cycles and changes. Look at whether characters treat each other as "Thous" or "Its" in ther Age of Aries.

Notice also that Nintura sees Asag as more of an "It" than a "Thou." Look at this description of the enemy: "It is a blister whose smell is foul, like mucus that comes from the nose." We find in the next sentence that the Asag's "words are devious," suggesting that the LAW has been ignored, which is a reference to society, not Nature. One student pointed out today that "devious" and "deviate" come from the same root word, and this suggests further that the Law is the stable force in Babylon that the Asag does not follow. Therefore he should be punished, and Nintura "pounded the Asag like roasted barley" and did something horrifying to "its genitals." Not only are the impersonal pronouns used, but Nintura also seems to be slaying the crops in this metaphor, perhaps indicating the dominance of society over Nature.

After Nintura defeats the mountain, drought occurs, and Nintura must collect the broken rocks and create dams and sluices for the water to flow properly. Notice that Nature isn't capable of arranging itself to provide life. We need the representative of the law to do this for us since Nature has failed us once again. Clearly, we can detect the bias here in favor of the kings and his power over those pesky Nature deities.

Perhaps one of the most interesting parts of this story appears in the section entitled "The Fixing of Destinies." Here we see a reference to Ninmah (the young Ninhursag) who seems to be granted her powers only from her son, Nintura. After he had destroyed the mountain, he fixes new destinies to its crumbled pieces. He separated the good rocks (the useful ones that could be made into tools and jewelry) from the bad ones, crushing the useless rocks into powder. Since "Ninhursag" means "Mountain Lady," I wonder if defeating the mountain might be a metaphor for defeating the Earth Mother.

Ninmah is referred to as the mother of Nintura, but she now takes orders from him. Instead of having woman be the symbol of fertility and life, that mantle has now been passed onto Nintura, the male who has "life-giving looks." Apparently Nintura alone can decide when life is created. He assigns his mother Ninmah a new identity (Ninhursag) and he allows her to become a birth mother because of his grace alone. "So be it," he says, "I have given you great powers," as if she could not conceive unless she had received his permission. Later, she is referred to as a "maiden," which implies virginity (although she is his mother). To rub this in further, we see Aruru enter in the next paragraph as a separate character. However, Aruru is simply another name for Ninmah or Ninhursag. They are the same characters, but they have been broken down here due to Nintura's wishes.

Some students viewed Nintura's treatment of Ninhursag positively, suggesting that he is honoring her by giving her a clean slate and a new identity, perhaps for sticking by his side when most of the other gods left him to fight the Asag alone. This is certainly a valid interpretation, although I presented the opposite view earlier because I find it to be more consistent with the mentality of the unit.

The rest of the story shows Nintura separating the dozens of rocks into categories as he fixes their destinies for the times to come. I have no idea what each of the Mesopotamian names are for the various rocks, and you will not be responsible for knowing this either on any quiz or test.

Anzu

This story is a parallel to Lugal-e that is described above. We have seen this occur before: one basic storyline is repeated in different tales, probably due to the extent of the oral traditions into different regions of the near East, where these plot lines are adapted to local legends and interests.

In this story, Anzu plays the role of the evil enemy of the gods. We originally saw Anzu as one of the three creatures in Inanna's Huluppu-tree and also as the eagle in Etana. Initially described in glowing terms because of his divine ancestors, Anzu soon turns against Ellil, who had placed Anzu as the gatekeeper to his temple, Duranki. While on the job one day, Anzu notices how easy it is for him to steal the Tablet of Destinies from Duranki. Remember that this Tablet is the new name for the Holy me, and it is the same one that Marduk had to reclaim from Qingu in The Epic of Creation. Since the Babylonians were a law-oriented society, and since the laws were written down, the Tablet becomes the symbol for all written law, which the kings claimed came from the gods, such as Shamash.

After the theft, Ellil asks three other warrior gods to step up and attack Anzu, but all three refuse: Adad (also known as Ishkur), Gerra (a war god), and Shara (the eldest son of Inanna). Only Nintura accepts the challenge, which is usually the first phase of heroism: accepting the adventure.

Nintura arms himself with seven winds, again showing a reference to the magic number of the gods. We will see another interpretation of this next week in Gilgamesh. He will need these weapons to go against a hideous creature that is a combination of a dragon's head, bird's body, and lion's claws. You can see a picture of this scene in the first few pages of the Dalley text (Nintura graces the cover of the book without Anzu). Notice Nintura's royal garments, variety of weapons strapped to his shoulders, and his muscular calves. He is clearly the right "man" for the job. Also, notice that Nintura, a god, is depicted in attractive human terms, while Anzu is a disgusting combination of terror-laden animals.

The battle is depicted once again in terms of a storm, as we saw in the earlier story. In this version, however, Nintura's weapons are afraid of Anzu and they refuse to enter the fray, unlike Shar-ur from the Lugal-e story above.

The battle is mostly uneventful, but notice that Nintura defeats Anzu by clipping off his wings, much the same method that is used in Etana, when the serpent was instructed by Shamash to bite off the evil eagle's wings to facilitate his new growth and rebirth. In this version, however, there is no rebirth awaiting Anzu -- just his defeat. The Tablet of Destinies is returned to Ellil, and Nintura becomes the hero for the day.

The Epic of Gilgamesh

Today we began the most important story of the semester: The Epic of Gilgamesh. We were only able to get into Tablet II, so we have much ground to cover on Monday.

An epic is a long narrated poem that tells the great deeds of a hero, who represents his country’s values. See the coursepacket for a list of 16 typical epic conventions that define the genre (page 220).  The Epic of Gilgamesh will convey some moral truths about the human journey of life.

We discussed how Gilgamesh is a man who acts mostly like a god (he is described as being 2/3 god and 1/3 man, which is technically impossible on a family tree).  Actually, The Epic of Gilgamesh is one of many stories that simply retells the tale of the moving planets in the sky.  The character Gilgamesh is actually a personification of the planet Mercury – “the messenger” (Greek Hermes).  Early astronomers didn’t have paper or PDAs to record their data, so they memorized the locations of the stars and put them into story form.  Gilgamesh is 2/3 god for a simple astronomical reason -- the Mercury travels through the night sky in many locations throughout the year, but it only visits (passes through) 8 of the 12 constellations of the Zodiac (or 2/3 of the heavenly (or godly) bodies). 

This metaphor tells us that Gilgamesh is a character who is out of balance.  He is the typical alpha male, using his strength and appetites to rule his life.  He is described like a bull -- powerful, male, virile, and unstoppable.  He stays up all night, knocks down walls, makes love to everyone’s daughters, and is mostly out of control.  As the king of the city of Uruk, his subjects know that they can’t live with him ... and they can’t live without him.  The people pray to the gods for some relief.

NOTE: If you have read this story before, you may have read it in the popular prose version by translator N. K. Sandars.  This prose version uses some different tablets than the Dalley version, which is far more authentic and updated (although harder to read).  In Dalley's version, Ishhara, goddess of marriage and childbirth, is being prepared to marry Gilgamesh to provide a balance in his life. In the Sandars version, the people of Uruk attempt to marry him to the Goddess of Love (Ishtar).

Relief comes in the form of a newly created entity --  Enkidu.  Enkidu was created much like Eve (or Adam) in the Genesis story -- from the clay of the earth (plus water and a Divine Will by Aruru, a creator goddess whom we have seen before as the goddess Ninhursag).  At first he is an unpolished person, an incomplete, undeveloped character.  He is described as an animal (hairy and wild), and he protects these animals from humans.  Since this doesn’t serve the people well, Enkidu is viewed as a force of destruction and chaos (much like the serpent in Eden).

Once Enkidu is created, he protects the animals.  One day, a hunter (trapper) examines his traps, only to find that someone has been releasing the animals that he had caught.  As the days pass by, the hunter grows more frustrated, and he asks the elders of Uruk and the gods for some relief.  The culprit is Enkidu, our jungle boy, who has been protecting the animals in every way possible.  In fact, he is called “murderous” on page 55, although no references are made to Enkidu killing anything.  Why do the people of Uruk call him names?  Perhaps this is what we do when we wish to be superior to something or someone, or it could be that the people knew nothing about Enkidu, causing them to fear for the worst.  Enkidu’s releasing of the animals from the traps might create more hunger amongst the humans, but I hardly would call this “murder.”  What we begin to see here is society’s misunderstanding of nature.  We mock that which we don’t understand.

The elders of Uruk send a special intermediary, a priestess, who is known as a “divine harlot.”  Her name is Shamhat, and she is the sacred prostitute that will change Enkidu into a man.  Much like Adam and Eve, Enkidu learns what nakedness means, and he willingly throws himself on Shamhat.  For the next 7 days, Enkidu becomes “cultured” by this woman, whose special spiritual powers from Ishtar allow her to reform Enkidu into a more refined human being.  Once the week is over, however, all the animals of the forest run and hide from him.  Although he physically looks the same, nature knows that his inner nature has changed.  He has changed teams, so to speak, and Enkidu now casts his lot with society rather than nature.

Do not be disturbed by the character Shamhat in the story.  The ancient cultures often had sacred priestesses who advised the kings and queens about spiritual matters.  If a young man displayed too much ignorance, or if the need arose where boys needed to quickly become men (such as in times of war), the king would often offer his sacred harlot to “culture” these young men.  Being a woman, the priestess would have an understanding of the sacred knowledge of life, since woman is more closely connected to the earth and the wisdom of the feminine forces of nature.  When the young man would conjugate his relationship with this priestess, he would be said to have “known” her, gaining wisdom of manhood in the process.  This is where the word “know” originated (“know” is the Biblical word for “sex”).  You can now see how the ancients saw a connection between wisdom and woman, and woman with growth and development.

Gaining knowledge, however, always comes with a price. Once Enkidu has transformed himself into a man from beast, he is rejected by nature (the animals) and must leave that Eden behind him by joining with other people (Gilgamesh).  Enkidu, however, is considered to have “grown weak, for wisdom was within him” (this phrasing can be found in the N. K. Sandars version, which you do not have).  Let’s think this through.  Whereas most of us have been taught that the attainment of wisdom makes us stronger, Enkidu sees this differently.  Enkidu realizes his weaknesses once he accepts his invitation into the world of dualities.  Gaining knowledge, then experience, we can attain wisdom, which is the combination of these two qualities.  We become different people, and, in this scene, Enkidu becomes “twice born.”  We become more responsible ... and more afraid.

What did we fear as babies?  Nothing except that which directly threatens us in our immediate surroundings.  We were not conscious of good and evil as tiny children.  Once Enkidu becomes cultured, he is rejected by the animals who understand nature on a different plane.  As we grow from little kids to adults, we confront many mysteries along the way.  Once we understand what death is, for example, we become wiser, BUT knowledge of death simply gives us one more thing to worry about, thus making us weaker.  The extra knowledge also gives us extra burdens, more things to worry about.  Attaining a college degree will make you worry about the world more.  A more ignorant person won’t bother with the details about world poverty, pre-emptive war, avian flu epidemics, or global warming.  If you want to reduce your worries, then stop learning NOW!

The arrival of Enkidu is portended in two dreams that Gilgamesh has.  One shows a falling star that lands in Uruk, but Gilgamesh cannot lift it.  His mother Ninsun (Gilgamesh’s divine mother, the goddess of wisdom, in the form of a sacred cow) interprets his dream to mean that a companion will soon arrive to become Gilgamesh’s shadow and mirror image.  Gilgamesh has another dream where a copper axe falls into his lap.  Again, Ninsun explains that the axe is Enkidu.  Since an axe is a tool used to cut down trees, Gilgamesh understands that he will be able to cut down pine trees with the help of Enkidu so that he can build a large wooden fortress around his city.

Enkidu arrives in Uruk to compete with Gilgamesh.  At the moment when Gilgamesh is about to enter the house of his bride’s father, Enkidu arrives and blocks Gilgamesh from entering the door.  They wrestle, but in the process they discover that each man complements the other, thus making them “whole.”  Do not look at this too literally.  Metaphorically, however, each of their characteristics helps to place the other’s traits into a better and healthier balance.  Notice that Gilgamesh and Enkidu form a complete person by unifying their dual natures -- Enkidu represents nature (feminine force) while Gilgamesh represents civilization (male force).  Enkidu becomes the yin to Gilgamesh’s yang.

I also reviewed a short poem othat will appear in your coursepacket called “Essay on Man,” written by 18 century Rationalist poet Alexander Pope, who attempts to place mankind's study of himself into a favorable light.  In this poem, Pope uses the image of an isthmus to illustrate our conflicts with duality.  An isthmus is a narrow strip of land, bound on two sides by water, and connects two larger pieces of land.  If a person were to be placed on the isthmus, he/she would be torn between the two possible directions, limited to a choice between dualities.  Is a human more like God or more like a beast?  Should we value our minds or bodies more?  Is society more important than Nature?  Here is the poem:

 

"Essay on Man"

Epistle II - Of the Nature and State of Man with Respect to Himself, as an Individual

KNOW then thyself, presume not God to scan,

The proper study of mankind is man.

Plac'd on this isthmus of a middle state,

A being darkly wise, and rudely great:

With too much knowledge for the sceptic side,

With too much weakness for the Stoic's pride,

He hangs between; in doubt to act, or rest;

In doubt to deem himself a God, or beast;

In doubt his mind or body to prefer;

Born but to die, and reas'ning but to err;

Alike in ignorance, his reason such,

Whether he thinks too little or too much:

Chaos of thought and passion, all confus'd;

Still by himself abus'd or disabus'd;

Created half to rise, and half to fall;

Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all;

Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurl'd:

The glory, jest, and riddle of the world!

Pope mentions that mankind is a great "riddle of the world" because we cannot make up our minds about our own natures.  One duality is God/beast.  Well, are we gods?  Well, we can build things, we can fly in airplanes, and we can talk in virtual reality.  However, we also have animalistic desires, we act for ourselves rather than our societies, and we ultimately face the fate of everything in Nature -- death.  So, we are not completely gods nor beasts, but we share the qualities of each.  Pope continues his list by mentioning many other aspects of our dual nature (mind/body, thought/passion, rise/fall, action/rest, truth/error, etc.).  Pope's thesis is that we are stuck in the middle because we share the natures of both sides of the duality.  Once we lean in one direction, we begin to deny ourselves of the necessity to experience the other side as well. In Gilgamesh, we see the main character as a pure representation of the masculine side (the side that represents strength, society, God).

Enkidu is created to give Gilgamesh some balance, and so we can place Enkidu on the other side of the isthmus, on the feminine side that reflects nature.  The intention of creating a mirror image of Gilgamesh is to help Gilgamesh wander further over to the feminine side, with the best case scenario being a meeting in the middle between both characters.  However, we will see soon that Enkidu is summoned to the masculine side after his conversion into “profound Enkidu” by Shamhat, but Gilgamesh will not be affected at all.  He will remain in the camp of the masculine, and this will be the main problem that he must overcome throughout the story – understanding the other side (nature, death, femininity, etc.).

Interestingly, after the fight is over, Enkidu breaks down crying.  He begins talking about a creature named Humbaba, the keeper of the Pine Forest of Lebanon.  Rumor tells the people of Uruk that this beast is the “terror of people” whose “breath is death.”  Again, what you don’t understand might seem to be scary.  Certainly, no one has been able to defeat Humbaba, and no one has challenged this creature and lived to tell about it.  Although this inspires Gilgamesh to give it a try, Enkidu’s reaction is to cry.  Why?

Besides suffering with emotion for failing to defeat Gilgamesh, Enkidu is now viewing the world through a very different filter than he did before.  Earlier, as a fully vetted member of Nature, Enkidu cohabited with all the creatures of the wild, including the scary ones, such as lions, bulls, etc.  Suddenly, now that he has shifted his bias toward society and away from Nature, he is starting to confront the same fears as the people of Uruk do -- the fear of the unknown, or the fear of that which is different from the self.  Now that Enkidu is a “man,” he has learned to fear Nature, since Nature is more powerful than himself.

We will complete our look at this story on Monday.

Announcements:

The coursepackets are arriving this week! I will make an announcment in class on Wednesday.

Also, our next test is next Wednesday, March 1st. Please print the study guide and let me know what questions you may have.

I will again offer extended office hours leading up to the test. So far, I know that I will be available on THURSDAY 23 February. I'll post some additional times for next week as well as soon as I clear my schedule a bit.

Due Next Time:

 

The Epic of Gilgamesh, VII-XI (Dalley, 83-120); READING GUIDE (232-238)

The Power of Myth, chapter 5 (Campbell, 151-206)

Gilgamesh Notes (218-219)

Epic Conventions (220)

Numerical Symbolism in Gilgamesh (221)

Comparing the Floods of Gilgamesh and Genesis (239-240)

Gilgamesh and Huwawa (Version A) (241-247)

Gilgamesh and Huwawa (Version B) (248-250)

 

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