Class Summaries and Handouts

	Class Summaries and Handouts
HOME	KSU - English 2110/07 - Mr. Hagin - Revised: 22 June 2004	WLRC

Unit 1: Mesopotamia

**Click the links below to access class info** **for each day:**

Class #3: Tuesday 8 June 2004
Class #4: Thursday 10 June 2004
Class #5: Tuesday 15 June 2004
Class #6: Thursday 17 June 2004
Class #7: Tuesday 22 June 2004 (TEST DAY)

Tuesday 22 June 2004 TOP

Today's Topics:

We completed our look at The Epic of Gilgamesh and took our first test on the Mesopotamian unit.

The Epic of Gilgamesh (Continued)

Today we discussed The Epic of Gilgamesh, the oldest epic on earth.

Remember that an epic is a long narrated poem that tells the great deeds of a hero, who represents his country's values. The Epic of Gilgamesh conveys some moral truths about the human journey of life. 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. As long as these sides remain in balance and true to their origins, order will be maintained. Otherwise, chaos will reign supreme. Unfortunately, that's exactly what happens next ....

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.

I told the class that a small child doesn't think twice about sticking his head into the tiger cage to "pet the kitty cat." The parents, however, know better than to trust a tiger, so they will discourage the child from approaching the tiger cage, for fear of the real possibility of their child becoming a snack. A child must test her limits, and the only way to learn is through experience (remember that Campbell tells us that people seek the experience of being alive). Now that Enkidu has developed into an adult mindset, he now knows what he didn't know before -- that Nature can kill you, especially at the moment of death.

Gilgamesh, however, gets this great idea to leave a legacy, and he will do so by building a wall around Uruk. Since there is no hardwood in the Euphrates River valley, our two heroes must travel on a dangerous journey to Lebanon to acquire the wood from the pine forest (the Sandars translation refers to the "Cedar" forest, but Dalley explains in a footnote that new discoveries reveal that the wood is pine, not cedar). The problem exists in the character of Humbaba, the keeper of the forest, and a monster with the giant tusk, described by Gilgamesh as "evil."

Although everyone counsels Gilgamesh against this journey, he rationalizes it as a "win/win" situation -- if he successfully returns with the lumber, then he is a hero; if he dies while fighting, then he still becomes a hero and leaves a memorable legacy as a brave warrior. On page 141, Campbell informs us that some people need a war to feel truly alive. In fact, many of us press our limits and and participate in risky behaviors because these things make us feel alive, while ironically placing us close to the hands of death. Those of us who like driving too fast, jumping out of airplanes, or riding roller coasters are acting a lot like Gilgamesh did.

Enkidu is adopted by Ninsun. Now that these characters are "brothers," they should help each other to stay out of trouble. Enkidu, however, instructs the elders to dissuade Gilgamesh from taking this trip on page 63, calling it a journey "not to be undertaken." Gilgamesh, however, asks his mom, Ninsun, for advice, and she laments to Shamash that her son has a restless heart. Ninsun, Shamash, and the city elders instruct Enkidu to be the leader on the journey, to guide Gilgamesh into the forest, and to bring him back alive. After all, Enkidu knows the paths and the dangers, so he should lead Gilgamesh. The problems occur on the journey when Enkidu slowly relinquishes power back to Gilgamesh, who has rarely followed the lead of others.

Tablet IV begins with a description of the travelers riding upstream to Lebanon. The trip takes from "the new moon to the full moon," implying a 14-15-day journey, plus 3 additional days (for a total of 17-18 travel days -- are we there yet?). The changes in the moon are symbolic. The full moon would have signified the height of danger and evil, since the moon represents the dark side of life. A new moon (invisible to the eye) would have indicated the most auspicious interpretations. Therefore, as the two warriors travel upstream, the moon grows bigger and bigger, representing that bad days are approaching quickly.

Gilgamesh has several dreams in this story, but three important dreams occur and are translated by Enkidu. The first dream shows a mountain toppling onto the plains at Gilgamesh's feet, and Enkidu says that this represents the fall of Humbaba and victory in battle. The second dream is not attainable from the broken text, but other translations discuss Gilgamesh battling with a bull, and Enkidu interprets this to mean that Shamash, the sun god (symbolized as a bull), will protect Gilgamesh on the trip. Gilgamesh's third dream, however, is a nightmare, and Gilgamesh is afraid of it. He dreams of death and destruction, and his world burning down to ashes. This interpretation makes Enkidu become paralyzed with fear, causing Gilgamesh to take Enkidu by the hand and to show him how to be victorious in battle.

Enkidu sees these events as bad omens, and begins to find a way out of the war with Humbaba. But Gilgamesh takes Enkidu by the hand and assumes the lead (which goes against the advice of the elders and priests of Uruk). Humbaba is quickly approaching, and Enkidu becomes scared. The actions of both characters now will be made through fear, which is always leads to dangerous consequences. Humbaba towers over the two warriors, and he threatens to break their necks and eat them for a snack (and he wonders if their puny bodies can satisfy his stomach!).

Gilgamesh reassures Enkidu that they have the protection of Shamash, the sun god, who conjures up the 13 winds that restrain Humbaba because they blow at him from different directions. Pay attention to the numbers in this part of the story. Notice that Shamash tells the characters on page 73 that "Humbaba will not be clothed in seven cloaks," suggesting that Humbaba will only have seven forms of godly power to work with (these powers were called the holy me in the Inanna stories). If you recall, the number 7 represents the seven moving lights in the sky that apparently follow more roving patterns than do the more distant (or "fixed") stars, so divinities often held power in multiples of seven. Do you recall that Inanna carried seven holy me with her when she ventured into the underworld? Therefore, you see the pattern developing.

Now picture two forces fighting against each other, such as society vs. Nature. If Humbaba has seven me, and Humbaba represents Nature, then the opposite force to Nature must naturally contain the same amount of power, since dualities balance themselves out. Therefore, we can assume that society will also carry seven types of power into the battle. Shamash says to Gilgamesh that Humbaba will be "wearing only one; six are taken off" (page 73), implying that Shamash will remove six of Humbaba's powers so that he can use them against the monster. Therefore, by stealing six me from Humbaba, and adding them to his own pool of seven me, then he can attack Humbaba with 13 total me, manifested in the 13 winds that Shamash conjures up that hold Humbaba in a state of suspended animation. Why does Humbaba still have one left? Because he can't be powerless, especially as a representative of the ugly side of Nature. The number 13 is also derived from basic geometry and mathematical calculations, including the 12 constellations of the Zodiac plus the sun equals 13 as well. This is mirrored in Buddha and his twelve disciples, Jesus with his twelve apostles, etc. This number represents power, whether you consider it to be lucky or otherwise.

Enkidu regains some of his confidence, and perhaps follows Gilgamesh's lead too much. He becomes more "masculine," much like Gilgamesh, and eventually suggests that the two of them should slay the giant. They have to act fast, because Humbaba's henchmen have started to emerge from the deep woods with weapons. Gilgamesh is confused and wonders where to begin. Enkidu uses his new skills of reason to suggest that they should kill Humbaba for two reasons: 1) Ellil (who supports Humbaba) will soon return, causing their job to become harder an more dangerous; and 2) he reasons that, by killing the mother hen (Humbaba), the chicks (Humbaba's army) will scatter in fear after losing their commander.

I often make an allusion here to William Shakespeare's tragedy Julius Caesar, where the same logic backfired on the protagonist. If you have read this play in high school, you would know that Caesar had grown too powerful, causing two characters by the names of Cassius and Brutus to plot a conspiracy against Caesar. While discussing their game plan, both characters argued about their methods. Cassius wants to kill Caesar as well as his close advisors, including the fast-rising Mark Antony. Brutus wanted to execute Caesar too, but did not want to be tagged as a mass murderer, claiming that the conspirators should act like "sacrificers, not butchers." Brutus argues that if they kill the head (Caesar), then they do not have to "hack the limbs" (Mark Antony). Brutus gets his way -- they kill the dictator alone, but this allows Antony to assume the leadership role vacated by Caesar. Antony ended up being far more brutal than Caesar ever was, and the conspirators met their bloody deaths as a result. Enkidu uses the metaphor of the chickens, rather than the head and limbs, but it's the same message, and it may contain similar logical flaws.

Here's where the problems begin. Was Humbaba really evil? He certainly had a reputation, but, metaphorically, he really just represents Nature itself. Specifically, Humbaba represents the ugly, fearful side of nature. Have you ever seen a dead animal splatted across the road? That's Humbaba. Ever been chased by an angry dog? Humbaba again. Ever have a wasp nest in your garage? Yup, that's Humbaba too. He represents the ugliest and most frightening aspects of Nature -- the things that we wished that we could do without, such as death. Humbaba's face is depicted as an ugly, contorted mass of intestines, with fissures, nooks, and crannies pock-marking his large head. He is supposed to be reprehensible to look at, especially since he represents the dark sides of nature. I have included his picture in your reading guide (it's only a face that a mother could love!).

Once bound by the 13 winds, Humbaba starts to bargain with Gilgamesh and Enkidu. He offers them lumber of any variety, and says that he will personally deliver the very best that the forest can offer. Why the sudden change in temperament? Isn't this a typical human reaction when facing an obstacle? If we can't beat 'em, join 'em? Does Humbaba forget his real nature?

Ironically, Enkidu forgets his own nature (and his past connection to it), and instead replaces these perspectives with the far more male dominant ones of his king. In essence, both characters are now of one mind, and they no longer create a balance between the Divine and Nature (or Civilization vs. Nature, as their original union represented). Now that Humbaba is dead, the gods decide that someone must pay for exploiting and abusing nature for mankind's selfish gain. Someone will have to die, and that character is ... Enkidu.

After defeating Humbaba, floating the timber downstream, and building the protective wall around Uruk, the goddess of love and war, Ishtar (Inanna), decides to make Gilgamesh her consort. However, he flatly turns her down, mostly due to her reputation. She has destroyed the lives of many men, including Dumuzi, and has reduced them to nothingness. The section describes six total husbands of Ishtar who have all met grim fates, including the bird whose wing was broken, the lion cast into the lion pit, and the shepherd who was changed into a wolf, amongst others.

Although we can understand Gilgamesh's decision to reject Ishtar, notice that he once again fights against the feminine forces (first Nature, now the Nature Goddess). Ishtar is the Goddess of both love and war (among other things, including procreation, fertility, etc.). Why do love and war walk hand-in-hand? Perhaps we fight for that which we love the most. Just watch two guys fight over a girl (or two girls over a guy). We would not fight a war unless we love someone (or something) enough to take action. Also, by rejecting Ishtar's treatment of Dumuzi, Gilgamesh once again proves that he is NOT viewing the world in balance, since he ignores the female metaphors (through a man's eye, Dumuzi was killed by Inanna, but a feminine perspective recognizes and admires the changes that he has gone through).

After Gilgamesh's refusal, Ishtar complains to her father, Anu, and seeks his help to destroy Gilgamesh. Anu grants his daughter the Great Bull of Heaven to corrupt the land as a punishment for Gilgamesh's and Enkidu's actions. She is allowed to send down to earth the Bull of Heaven, which symbolizes a seven-year drought. However, Gilgamesh and Enkidu each defeat this beast, sending the other gods into confusion. How can these mortals dictate to Nature what will be? Notice that Gilgamesh seems to be attacking women and the female forces very consistently. Even Enkidu becomes more brash, yelling insults toward Ishtar. At one point, Enkidu rips off one of the legs of the Bull and tosses it up into the heavens as an insult to Ishtar. This part of the story explains to the children of Mesopotamia why one leg in the constellation Taurus (the Bull) hangs lower than the other one (remember that this epic recalls a narrative version of the stars).

Enkidu then has two frightening dreams. The first shows the great gods discussing what they should do about Enkidu. They decide that either he or Gilgamesh must die. They choose Enkidu, partly because he has deviated from his nature (plus, Gilgamesh helps to glorify the gods by building temples, etc.). When he tells Gilgamesh his dream, Gilgamesh becomes emotional and denies Enkidu's interpretations. That's when Enkidu begins to insult those characters who helped him to attain his lofty presence. He first curse the hunter, since the hunter was the one who brought Shamhat to the woods. He next blames this sacred prostitute for culturing him. He curses their futures, praying for destruction and pain in the lives of these people.

Shamash, the sun god, then intervenes and tells Enkidu to grow up and accept his fate. After all, because of the hunter and the harlot, Enkidu was able to experience things that he never would have been able to do before, such as wear royal clothes, eat excellently prepared food, seek human companionship with Gilgamesh, attain the status of a hero for successfully bringing the pine lumber to Uruk, etc. Really, Enkidu has lived a good and meaningful life, but now is his time to die. We are all given the gift of life from the gods -- without asking for it -- so we have nothing to complain about.

To step aside for a moment ... I passed out a handout at the beginning of the class that contains a famous poem from Alexander Pope's great essay entitled Essay on Man. It is a work of early 18th century Rationalism that attempts to place mankind's study of himself into a favorable light. In this poem we see a person placed on an isthmus (a body of land bound on two sides by water). The person on this middle place does not know on which of the two sides he belongs. He cannot move in two directions due to the water's edge, so he/she is limited to a choice between dualities. 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.

Look at Gilgamesh as being on the side of civilization, and look at Enkidu on the side of Nature. When Enkidu is transformed into a civilized man by Shamhat, he rejects his Nature side, crossing the isthmus into the opposite realm. This is why he is out of balance, and why he must die rather than Gilgamesh. By killing Humbaba, Enkidu has effectively killed his own essence and heritage. In the process, he has assumed more and more of Gilgamesh's mannerisms and outlooks on life. Originally, Enkidu was created help balance Gilgamesh, but by the middle of the story, both Gilgamesh and Enkidu are firmly on the side of society. Also, since Humbaba has now been killed, what is there that remains on the other side of the duality? Not much, which is why the gods must balance this out before society overtakes Nature completely, which would kill both sides in the process. Maybe we learn that we can never run away from our God-given attributes, lest we violate the beauty of our intended place on the spectrum. Perhaps the Parable of the Talents applies here too.

Maybe this episode of Enkidu's death explains that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Mess with Nature ... and she'll mess with you too! When Enkidu dies, Gilgamesh sees himself lying there. He mourns for a week before searching for the magic potion to bring Enkidu back to life. He does not find one, since none exists. He bolts the door, trashes his home, pulls out his hair, and grieves over the decaying body of his friend. Gilgamesh will now devote his life to his more proper journey -- the search for the power to bring his friend back from the dead. This journey is really his most important one, since he must learn the lessons of life that have not yet sunken in.

Campbell discusses how some journeys are really false journeys. A character may think that he is moving down the right path, but he may learn later that he was wrong. Perhaps this is what Gilgamesh learns -- that his purpose in life was not to kill Nature and build a wall, but maybe to discover the final answers about life and death. Campbell further discusses the division between two types of journeys -- the physical quest and the spiritual one. Clearly, fighting against Humbaba was a physical journey. Now, however, Gilgamesh must set forth on the journey that he should have been on all along -- the quest for eternal life. He now embarks on a more dangerous journey to the other side of the world to talk with the only man who was granted eternal life -- Utnapishtim, the Faraway ("He who saw everything").

Gilgamesh is clearly distraught. He is unkempt, dirty, and haggard looking, wearing torn lion skins and walking around in a daze. Finally, he is able to feel the pain of someone else -- Enkidu. Joseph Campbell discusses that the word "compassion" perfectly applies here. The etymology of this word is simple: "com" means "with," and "passion" means "suffering," which we will see more clearly in the Eastern unit. Therefore, "compassion" really means "to suffer with someone else." In other words, you feel their pain, and you cry when they cry too. Before, Gilgamesh only looked out for himself, but now he has a new, painful realization about life and death that he had to learn through the tragedy of Enkidu's passing.

To begin his journey, he suits up his armor and heads eastward, since the East represents life and birth (the West represents death, given that the sun "dies" each day by thrusting itself into the Western grave). When he reaches the tunnel, he takes a brief nap to energize himself for the journey. When he awakens, he sees two lions playing nearby. Perhaps out of jealousy (or even pure masculine aggression), Gilgamesh slaughters these animals (ironically, the symbol of Ishtar is also the lion, suggesting that Gilgamesh is also displaying his rejection of feminine qualities here too). Gilgamesh seems angry at Nature for allowing death to be a part of life. His grief is deep, and he is not thinking rationally. Since Enkidu's death, Gilgamesh is once again out of balance, allowing his angry masculine side dominate his character. It appears to be easier to bring everyone else down with you when you are having a bad day than it is to life yourself up.

Gilgamesh then approaches the mouth of the tunnel, but it is guarded by two Scorpion-Men. These characters are also universal, used in Egyptian lore, amongst others. They are the solar guardians of the East, preventing people from traveling into the world of eternal light (the east, the sun, etc.). Gilgamesh, however, convinces these dark forces that he should be allowed to embark on this once-in-a-lifetime quest, and he enters the mouth of the cave. His status as a man who is 2/3 god gives him this privilege.

By traveling through the mountain tunnel, Gilgamesh learns that from darkness comes the light. Much like traveling through a birth canal, Gilgamesh exits through the other side where he comes to the land east of Eden (the great garden), a landscape laden with bejeweled fruit and spiky plant life made from gemstones. He has arrived at the other side of the world, where nobody lives except Utnapishtim and several assistants. Gilgamesh is their first visitor, and he meets several characters who all tell him the same message: you will not find that which you are seeking (eternal life).

The first is Siduri, the divine wine maker, who hides in her house and locks her doors when she sees this dirty, tattered, frazzled man emerge from the mountain. He approaches her door, tells his heroic stories, and asks her where he can find "The Far-Away," Utnapishtim, the survivor of the Great Flood. Siduri tells Gilgamesh to go back home and live each day to the fullest, but he is stubborn, as we have seen him act throughout. She then sends Gilgamesh down the shoreline to meet a ferryman, Urshanabi. Siduri's status as a maker of wine evokes the imagery of blood and water, both essential liquids of human life. Perhaps Gilgamesh has come to the right place.

He hikes his way to Urshanabi, explains his situation, and asks him for a ride to Utnapishtim. However, upon his arrival, Gilgamesh breaks Urshanabi's boat and its accompanying 300 stone poles, and he knocks Urshanabi upside the head in the scrum. The stunned ferryman gladly agrees to transport Gilgamesh to the distant land, but first tells our hero that he has a lot of work to do building another boat and cutting down 300 pine poles. Gilgamesh now must rebuild that which he had destroyed. Is he simply frustrated? Does he not trust what he sees any more?

The two figures begin their water journey, which will include passing over poison waters. Gilgamesh must use a pine pole to push the boat into the water, and, since there is no wind, he must continue to use the pole to propel the boat. The poison waters will kill a man on contact, so Gilgamesh must discard each pole after pushing it, reaching for another with every stroke. He needs to continue propelling the boat in this fashion, being careful to avoid exhausting the supply of poles. When he runs out of poles in the middle of the sea of death, he must get creative. Standing at the prow of the boat, arms extended, he removes his lion skins and uses them as a makeshift sail. It somehow works, and he arrives in the land of the Far-Away after a month's journey over the treacherous sea. When Utnapishtim looks out of his window, he can't believe his eyes that he is seeing a visitor to his home -- no one had ever visited before!

When he finally arrives at the land of the "Far-Away" (Utnapishtim), he again learns the same message -- gods live forever, but people don't. Several characters repeat the same message to Gilgamesh: "There is no permanence," and "that which you seek you shall not find." The holy counselors of Uruk told him this, as did the Scorpion-Men, Shamash the Sun God, Siduri (the Divine Wine Maker), Urshanabi (the ferryman), and Utnapishtim (the wisest man). They explain to Gilgamesh that the gods, upon inventing eternal life, only granted that lot to themselves. To people, we were granted the "gift" of death, as the days of life are numbered, but the days of death are not. Perhaps this forces us to recognize each day as a treasure. Each day should be filled to the fullest, with singing, dancing, and feasting (says Siduri). Dwell more on life than on death; otherwise, your life will become death as well.

When Gilgamesh arrives at Utnapishtim's land, he becomes the first visitor to this location. Utnapishtim's wife looks out her window, sees a strange and haggard man approaching, and tells her husband that they have company! Once again, Gilgamesh tells his heroic tales and explains his mission. Utnapishtim cuts him off at one point and asks Gilgamesh why he continues to grieve, especially knowing that each day spent in sadness is one fewer happy day left in life. He essentially tells Gilgamesh to stop using his living days to dwell on his eventual death. This is when Utnapishtim tells Gilgamesh his story of surviving the Great Flood by heeding Ea's commands spoken through his reed hut wall in a dream (see the Atrahasis story). I provided a handout that compares the Genesis and Gilgamesh versions of the flood story, point-for-point.

Gilgamesh insists, so he is put to the test -- an attempt to stay awake for a week. If Gilgamesh really thinks that he deserves eternal life, then he surely can stay awake for a measly week! However, he cannot even stay awake for a minute longer, since he is so worn out. Instead, he sleeps for a week straight after falling asleep in the middle of a conversation! Utnapishtim's wife encourages Utnapishtim to wake the sleeping man, but Utnapishtim knows that "Man behaves badly" (116). He suggests instead that they allow Gilgamesh to sleep, while Utnapishtim's wife bakes a loaf of bread each day and places it around Gilgamesh's head.

When Gilgamesh first awakens, he doesn't believe that he slept a wink, picking up his conversation where he had left off. Utnapishtim stops Gil's ramblings and forces him to look at the evidence that surrounds his head -- seven loaves of bread, each in a different state of decay. Like the bread, Gilgamesh is mortal. Only now has he has learned his lesson. He resigns himself to his fate, and boards the boat once again to journey back homeward.

Just then, Utnapishtim's wife scolds her husband for being a bad host, telling Utnapishtim that he has failed to give his guest a parting gift. Unable to figure out what to give this Sumerian king, Utnapishtim offers the only gift that he has -- wisdom. He instructs Gilgamesh how to find the flower of immortality at the bottom of the ocean. Excited at the prospects, Gilgamesh ties two stones to his feet, sinks to the ocean floor (the Apsu), finds the flower, pulls it by the stem (which pricks his hands), cuts the stones free, and ascends to the surface. Gilgamesh has found what he had been looking for -- the magic flower of immortality! He jumps for joy in his victory! He explains that he will offer this potion to his subjects in Uruk, starting with the oldest citizens. Perhaps he can bring Enkidu back to life after all.

However, even though he finds this flower, it is soon snatched away by a serpent when Gilgamesh had rested by the watering hole. The snake grabs the flower, sloughs off its skin, and slithers back into the ocean, taking the flower away forever, since mankind has not been allotted eternal life. Notice that these three symbols are all representative of the feminine forces -- the flower, the snake, and the water. Ultimately, Gilgamesh has to learn to accept the feminine forces so that he can live his limited life in greater balance. In fact, this is why the serpent steals the flower -- because death is a necessary side of the life/death duality. Without death, life is impossible to define. Both are understood only in the contexts of each other. The serpent here is not evil at all. Universally speaking, the serpent has been looked at by nearly every culture as a symbol of life, displayed by the action of shedding its old skin, rebirthing into a new (and better) creature. The snake looks like the male sex organ, but acts like the feminine forces (slithering). Also, its tongue appears to be like fire (masculine force), while its body undulates like water (feminine force). The snake embodies the perfect balance of these symbols of life. The serpent keeps Gilgamesh in balance by ensuring his death.

Frustrated, tired, and dejected, Gilgamesh resigns himself to a failed journey, and he asks Urshanabi to take him home. When Gilgamesh arrives back home in Uruk, we see him become a different man. He is proud of his accomplishments on earth, but is no longer arrogant about them. He realizes that his life has been filled with greatness, and that he will always be remembered. Perhaps this is our form of immortality. Humans do not get to live eternally (this culture did not believe in the afterlife, unlike the Egyptians), so we must perform great deeds that will be remembered for years to come. This is called our legacy.

But wait! Did you notice what Gilgamesh called the Flower if Immortality? On page 119 he says that its name shall be "An old man grows into a young man." The ancient Sumerians had a word that means just that. That word is ... "Gilgamesh." If our protagonist and the flower are called the same name, then what has Gilgamesh really found?

Himself.

This leads to one final allusion. An old Muslim myth, called The Conference of Birds, arrives at a similar answer. In this tale, millions of birds embark on a journey to find the mysteries of life, the universe, and God (Allah). They know the name of their god -- Simorgh. As they travel, day by day, thousands of birds quit the journey, making excuses why they cannot continue ("I'm too tired," "I have things to do," etc.). After traveling over mountains, oceans, and deserts, the remaining birds arrive at their destination. There are only 30 birds left by this point. They enter the cave, find the Simorgh's lair, and carefully open the door. Slowly, they peer inside the door, only to find ... a mirror. As they stare at their own reflections, they realize that their journey was not one in which they find God, but rather one in which they find themselves. How do we know this? Because the Arabic word "Simorgh" means "thirty birds." All along, they were searching for their own meaning in life. Perhaps we are doing the same.

I hope that you have enjoyed this unit.

Important Notes or Announcements:

Since today was a test day, I did not collect any quiz questions. However, since Thursday's class focuses on our next unit, you do have a quiz and a take-home response to submit when I see you next. Please see below. We will begin our next unit on Egypt on Thursday. The assigned readings are introductory in nature, and they will give us a good start with a different set of gods and goddesses.

Today's Handouts:

Since the coursepackets have arrived in the KSU Bookstore, all of your handouts are included in the packet. Please follow the page numbers in your syllabus. In fact, every single reading for the Egyptian unit is located in the coursepackets.

Due Next Time:

The Egyptian Natur (Coursepacket, page 91)
The Gods of the Egyptian Natur (CP 92-102)
Egyptian Creation Stories (CP 103-109)
Egyptian Hymns (CP 110-119)
The Destruction of Mankind (CP 120-127)
Isis and the Name of Ra (CP 128-131)

Take-Home Quiz Question

Compare and contrast the ways that Inanna and Isis gain their powers.

Thursday 17 June 2004 TOP

Today's Topics:

We completed The Descent of Inanna, discussed Adapa, began Gilgamesh, and learned about the format of the test.

The Descent of Inanna (cxontinued from Tuesday)

Ereshkigal questions these kurgarra and galatur creatures and attempts to offer them gifts, but they refuse the offerings (pages 66-67). Why? Anyone who accepts a gift from the keeper of the Underworld must therefore accept what the Underworld can offer -- death. The only gift they ask for is the body of Inanna, whom they revive with Enki's magic potions. Ereshkigal allows Inanna to leave the Underworld, due to these highly unusual conditions, but places one strict demand on her exit -- if she leaves, she will be accompanied by the galla creatures (little demon dudes) who will search the Earth for someone to take Inanna's place in the Underworld. After all, the Underworld must be balanced, so the soul of Inanna must be replaced.

Why does Ereshkigal affix the "eye of death" upon her sister Inanna? Is she evil? Corrupt? No. View Ereshkigal as a mirror image of Inanna herself. Whereas Inanna represents fertility, Ereshkigal promotes the opposite force. Both are aspects of Nature and natural cycles. Inanna, however, is the friendlier side of Nature, while Ereshkigal offers the dark side. In other words, these two women are really different halves of the same concept -- one that operates by day, and the other that tends to the night. They are more than sisters -- they are both components of Nature's dualities.

As Inanna and her demon companions re-emerge on the land, the galla creatures begin to point out prospects for Inanna's replacement. First, they find Ninshubur, Inanna's assistant, but Inanna complains that Ninshubur cannot be taken, since she is so valuable to Inanna. Next, on page 70, the galla stumble across two of Inanna's sons, Shara and Lulal. But Inanna complains again, stating that her sons are brave warriors and needed on the Earth. That is when, on page 71, the galla find a man sleeping beneath an apple tree -- Dumuzi. Inanna then exclaims: "Take him! Take Dumuzi away!" Fighting, kicking, and screaming, Dumuzi is dragged away toward the Underworld, wondering why he has met this fate. He will attempt to hide, and succeeds temporarily, until he is finally sentenced to the Underworld in the next two sections of this story. We were wondering in class why Inanna could be so heartless to point her finger at her husband, whom we thought she loved. Well, she does, and by sending him below she is helping his to become more divine. Let's look at this.

In the section entitled "The Dream of Dumuzi," we see Dumuzi asking his sister Geshtinanna to interpret his dreams, which she does on pages 76-77. In short, she tells her brother that his dream portends his own death, followed by hers. After this interpretation is made, Dumuzi runs away. Notice that Geshtinanna does not tell Dumuzi that he will die. Rather, she uses nature metaphors to describe Dumuzi's passing: "terror of tall trees," "fall to earth," "given to the winds." Remember that these nature-based stories tell about natural events and cycles. Geshtinanna discusses the "sheepfold" to Dumuzi, which can be translated into "Mother Earth." This allows us to better understand some descriptions, such as Dumuzi's fire being "put out on your holy hearth," allowing the "sheepfold" (earth) to "become a house of desolation." Why does Geshtinanna use nature references rather than speaking directly about his death? Maybe Dumuzi is not going to "die." Perhaps his "death" is really another "birth." We all must make a sacrifice before we can gain something. Dumuzi will gain an important role in the cycles of the earth by the end of the story. Remember that Inanna was traveling to the "East," representing life.

On pages 78-79, Dumuzi goes into hiding, asking his sister and friend to keep his hiding place a secret. When the galla approach Geshtinanna, she refuses their gifts -- the "water-gift" and the "grain-gift," both representations of life (the same stuff that the androgynous creatures fed to Inanna to revive her in the Underworld). Why does Geshtinanna refuse the gifts of life? Perhaps because they come from down below, or perhaps because of her loyalty to her brother. We all know that we should refuse the gifts from demons! The galla proceed to torture Geshtinanna before moving onto the friend who, on page 80, immediately accepts the gifts and reveals Dumuzi's hiding places. What kind of friend is this? Why would a friend turn against you? Maybe he feared the torture that the galla applied to Geshtinanna. Perhaps he was selfish. Additionally, maybe the friend knows something that we are not aware of. Either way, Dumuzi's sister is more loyal, in part, because she is a member of his family.

The galla catch up with Dumuzi, of course, because this is his fate. In a panic, Dumuzi calls up to the sun god, Utu, to transform his arms and legs into those of a gazelle (earlier, he had asked for his hands to be converted into the "hands" of serpents, allowing himself to easily escape his initial captivity). Utu complies, and gives Dumuzi one last chance for escape. Why does the sun god have mercy on Dumuzi as he is dragged away to death? The sun represents life and its energy. The sun naturally wants to preserve life and keep it active. The moon reflects the changes of death, in dual opposition to the qualities of the sun. Remember in the Atrahasis story that the drought brought upon the land by Ellil was caused by the rains refusing to fall, not the unbearable light of the sun. Utu is not to blame. Dumuzi is eventually seized by the galla, who take him to his new home.

In the section entitled "The Return," we see everyone in tears over Dumuzi's fate. His family is crying, including his mother Sirtur and sister Geshtinanna. A strange fly appears, who seems to know where Dumuzi is, but asks for compensation before saying where. Inanna grants the fly the abilities to enter the taverns (which explains why flies are attracted to restaurants!) and listen to people's conversations (the traditional "fly on the wall"). Bear in mind that any flying creatures were considered to be gods or spirits of some fashion, since they can fly heavenward, unlike people. The fly tells Inanna to look at the "edges of the steppe," or on the horizon, to find Dumuzi -- which they do!

On page 89, a deal is struck. Geshtinanna offers to make a sacrifice of herself so that Dumuzi can be released from the Underworld for one half a year. In Mesopotamia, the growing seasons of different crops lasted about 6 months -- in the spring and summer, grains were grown; but in the fall and winter, grapes were grown. The grains were harvested to produce beer, and the grapes were collected to make wine. Dumuzi, although he is a shepherd in the earlier stories, later assumed control over the grains, perhaps because of his marriage to the goddess of fertility. Likewise, Geshtinanna is the "lady of the vine," assisting in its production. The Mesopotamians needed to explain why certain "forces" allowed different plants to grow at opposite times, so they used their understanding of dualities to tell their stories.

This story is really a metaphor of the changing seasons, where Dumuzi and Geshtinanna (the winter and summer) return to earth, exchanging places twice a year. Undoubtedly, this also explains the rotation of the cosmos, and ties the planting and harvest seasons into these six-month periods of transition. The siblings tag-team their duties on earth and the Underworld, just as the plants grow, but then wither away in their "off" seasons. The seasons belong to the same family, and the year becomes broken into a fertile season (when Inanna and Dumuzi are together) and a fallow one.

Sending Dumuzi to the Underworld also gives him a divine purpose. Instead of sitting around in a state of retirement or leisure, he now can be deified by assuming a greater cosmic purpose. Much like the character Qingu (from The Epic of Creation), these male characters don't really understand what they're getting into when they marry a powerful goddess!

Beautiful stuff.

Adapa

This four-page story is filled with philosophical wonder. Born to provide civilization with wisdom, Adapa provides both physical and spiritual guidance to his people. One day, while fishing, a fierce storm attacks his boat, which sinks. Battling the waves and the rain, Adapa "curses" the South Wind (remember that the southerly winds were unfavorable in Mesopotamia, since they forced the salt water upstream). Suddenly, the wind (and therefore the storm) ceases. However, this makes Anu very upset, and he summons Adapa to heaven to answer for his actions.

Once again, we see Ea (Enki) assisting Adapa, much like he did with Atrahasis. Surprisingly, Ea tells Adapa to wear funeral clothes and to inform the gatekeepers of the sky god Anu that Adapa is mourning them. The scene transpires just as Ea had said that it would. Interestingly, one of the things that Ea advises Adapa not to do is to accept the food and water of eternity from Anu. When Adapa is asked to accept these gifts, he refuses them, just as he was told, and therefore loses his opportunity for eternal like (and, as a representative of all of us humans, he also refuses eternal life for all of uss as well).

Why is Adapa told to refuse a gift from heaven? One would think that a gift from heaven would be the ultimate blessing, but herein lies the problem. Did Ea set Adapa up for an embarrassing failure? Did Ea counsel Adapa unwisely? If so, why? We discussed this in class. Many students concluded that man was not intended for eternal life, so it simply had to be this way. Others thought that Adapa should have ignored the advice and accept the bread and water of eternal life. However, if Adapa strayed from the command of the gods, won't that result in an even worse penalty?

Nobody really knows the answer to this question, but it does resemble the Adam and Eve story, where the first humans were confronted with the prospect of the wisdom of life and death -- but for a steep price. Perhaps all of these stories help us to see that we cannot be gods, and if we get too close to the other worlds, then we are crossing the wrong boundaries.

Recall as well that someone who accepts a gift from the underworld also accepts death, since that person would have made a decision to leave earthly life in favor of th next. Well, if one accepts gifts from heaven, won't that also imply death? And, since the Mesopotamians did not believe in an afterlife, then ANY acceptance of gifts not of the earth will jeopardize our very existence. Maybe we are darned if we do and darned if we don't (or something similar).

This brings me to an important issue about interpretations of these myths. If you recall from Tuesday, we learned from Joseph Campbell that geography is the primary force that shapes a culture's views of the universe. Campbell mentioned that desert-dwelling societies used imagery of the sky, because it was a dominant force acting upon them, whereas a jungle community does not incorporate horizons, stars, or suns and moons, since their reality is locked into a more limited perspective. However, Campbell neglected to mention another barrier that may be preventing you from "getting" these myths -- language. Because we don't speak Sumerian, were not getting the puns and jokes. For example, the Sumerian word for "heaven" also had a second meaning -- "death." Much like English words have multiple meanings (such as "right," "love," etc.), so do these early cultures. If "heaven" and "death" mean the same thing, then we can start to see that Adapa cannot accept the gifts of heaven, since that would mean he has to die. Remember that the names of characters mean little to you, but the Mesopotamians saw these double meanings, and they had lots of fun with their language, just like us. That's why we don't see the metaphors as clearly as they would have seen them 5,000 years ago.

The Epic of Gilgamesh

Today we discussed the first three tablets of The Epic of Gilgamesh, the oldest epic on earth.

Remember that an epic is a long narrated poem that tells the great deeds of a hero, who represents his country's values. Gilgamesh will be that hero. The previous readings in the unit were straight myths, and they told us few moral lessons. Rather, the myths speak to us about the metaphors of nature, astronomy, and their cycles. The Epic of Gilgamesh, however, 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). 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 the Sandars version, the people of Uruk attempt to marry him to the Goddess of Love (Ishtar), but he never makes it to the altar, due to Enkidu's arrival.

Relief comes in the form of a newly created entity -- Enkidu. Enkidu was created much like Adam (or sometimes Eve) was 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.

The elders of Uruk send a special intermediary, a priestess who is knows 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 lots 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 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.

Shamhat plays the same role as the serpent does in the Garden of Eden. She is the intermediary/daemon character who tempts Enkidu into manhood with her beauty. Much like Eve cannot resist the serpent's temptations to understand the next phase of life, Enkidu is powerless to avoid these mysteries of culture and society provided by Shamhat. Both Adam/Eve and Enkidu affirm their lives into the world of dualities by accepting the invitation to grow up. From children, they grow into adults, who have responsibilities and chores to perform once they arrive into their world of good and evil.

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. 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 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. 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 (if so, then Gilgamesh and Enkidu must be homosexual, which several scholars claim). 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.

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?

I told the class that a small child doesn't think twice about sticking his head into the tiger cage to "pet the kitty cat." The parents, however, know better than to trust a tiger, so they will discourage the child from approaching the tiger cage, for fear of the real possibility of their child becoming a snack. A child must test her limits, and the only way to learn is through experience (remember that Campbell tells us that people seek the experience of being alive). Now that Enkidu has developed into an adult mindset, he now knows what he didn't know before -- that Nature can kill you, especially at the moment of death!

Gilgamesh, however, gets this great idea to leave a legacy, and he will do so by building a wall around Uruk. Since there is no hardwood in the Tigris River valley, our two heroes must travel on a dangerous journey to Lebanon to acquire the wood from the pine forest (the Sandars translation refers to the "Cedar" forest, but Dalley explains in a footnote that new discoveries reveal that the wood is pine, not cedar). The problem exists in the character of Humbaba, the keeper of the forest, and a monster with the giant tusk, described by Gilgamesh as "evil." Although everyone counsels Gilgamesh against this journey, he rationalizes it as a "win/win" situation -- if he successfully returns with the lumber, then he is a hero; if he dies while fighting, then he still becomes a hero and leaves a memorable legacy as a brave warrior. On page 141, Campbell informs us that some people need a war to feel truly alive. In fact, many of us press our limits and and participate in risky behaviors because these things make us feel alive, while ironically placing us close to the hands of death. Those of us who like driving too fast, jumping out of airplanes, or riding roller coasters are acting a lot like Gilgamesh did.

We will finish this story on Tuesday before the test.

Important Notes or Announcements:

The English 2110 Coursepackets have arrived! Please visit the KSU Bookstore as soon as possible and purchase your copy. It is a spiral comb-bound packet, with a grey cover, entitled Symbolic Connections in World Literature. The price should be about $34.

Now that the coursepackets are in, I will NOT be posting any more handouts, since they will be located inside.

Please let me know if there are any problems or concerns regarding these materials.

The study guide for next Friday's test contains several important sections. First, note that the readings refer ONLY to the Mesopotamian unit. I will not ask you any direct questions about the initial creation stories or the Campbell video that we saw. However, if you can refer to Campbell to support a test answer, please show me what you know.

Next, notice that the list of "Key Concepts and Terms" provides a limited list of "fair game" topics, about which I will ask questions.

Furthermore, your list of gods in the "Mesopotamian Character Glossary" contains the "fair game" listing of the main deities that I may ask you about. You certainly may refer to ANY character from any reading, but I will not ask you insignificant questions.

One suggested study method that I shared today might help you. Write a list of the unit's titles. Then summarize the metaphorical meanings of each story in a sentence or two. This will force you to break the myths down to their bare essences. Compare your discoveries with those of your classmates. There can be dozens of messages and interpretations, by the way, that can receive full credit on the test! By breaking the readings down to the core, you should be able to see commonalities and distinctions amongst the tales more clearly. This summary technique can also help you to choose your readings for the critical response essay. Good luck!

Finally, please be advised that I will be scoring your answers on a 5-point scale, but I will be taking a slightly more critical approach when grading your answers. If I have given you 5 points (out of 5) on a take-home paragraph, but I have added comments that suggest that you need to clarify, explain, or exemplify your ideas further, then that is a hint that the same answer might not receive all 5 points if you were to apply it as your test answer. For each question, you should answer the question directly, and then support it with references and examples from the texts. Remember that this is a literature class, so your knowledge and recollection of the readings will be most impressive.

NOTE: Tuesday's class will be divided into TWO parts, not three. We will finish Gilgamesh during the first hour or 75 minutes, then take the test starting around 9:30.

Extra Office Hours:

To make myself available to you, I will be in my office on Monday, from 10:00 to 2:00.

Feel free to call me or to drop by during this time if you would like to review something for the unit. I can also make myself available at another time that may be more convenient for you. Please e-mail me with any special requests. Please contact me if you have any questions about the unit, the test, or anything that we have done in class.
I am here to assist you and to help you to be as fully prepared for the test as possible.
Best of luck to everyone!

Today's Handouts:

Study Guide: TEST 1: MESOPOTAMIA

NOTE: Nearly all future handout materials are found in the coursepacket, so this section will not be used much for the remainder of the semester.

Due Next Time:

The Epic of Gilgamesh, tablets VIII-IX (Dalley, 91-120)

No Take-Home Quiz Question Today -- study for your test!

Tuesday 15 June 2004 TOP

Today's Topics:

Today we began with the Etana story, then covered most of the stories in the Inanna text. We got as far as page 64, in the last story, The Descent of Inanna. Please bring your red Inanna books on Thursday so we can complete our look at that story. We will also address the Adapa story on Thursday as well.

Etana

We began class today by discussing the animal fable Etana. This story is more of a fable because it communicates a series of morals. The previous titles have not proposed any rules of conduct, mainly because the gods and goddesses play their known roles well. Etana, however, is a man, a king who has been unable to create an heir for his throne. He will use the plight of the eagle to solve his problem.

Much like in The Huluppu-Tree, Etana begins with a tree that houses an eagle at the top and a serpent at the bottom. Unlike the traditional Western interpretation of the serpent as evil, the serpent in this story is good, and actually becomes a helpless victim. The eagle is the bad guy in this tale, a brutal and selfish murderer of the serpent's young. Here's why. Recall that the original definition of the Greek word "demon" ("daemon") means "an intermediary," or a middle-man, go-between, catalyst, etc. The demon is the spirit/creature that either allows us to get closer to our goal (God, etc.) or it prevents us from easily attaining something of our desire (such as a dragon guarding the sacred treasure). Therefore, ANY intermediary plays a helpful role in defining our fates. Jesus is an intermediary to God the Father (through Jesus we get close to God). Likewise, an angel is an intermediary, as is Ea/Enki in the Atrahasis story, the creatures living in the huluppu-tree, the serpent in the Garden of Eden, or a minister in a church. All of these are "demons," and they are necessary conduits and channels to the spiritual world. We will see in later readings that the characters who over-step their bounds are often considered "evil," such as Tiamat and Gilgamesh (whom we will see in the next story). The eagle is that creature in Etana.

Recall as well that birds are fantastic examples of intermediaries, as are any creatures that have wings that can allow them to leave the earth and reach the heavens. The serpents typically allow us to grow and develop in earthly ways, whereas birds help us to attain a closer relationship with the gods. Therefore, we can see that this fable will incorporate two different types of intermediaries -- one bound to the earth, but the other free to roam. Do you see any dualities? True, we humans are also tied to the ground (by gravity), but at least we can jump, unlike the serpent.

The tale begins on page 191, where the serpent addresses the eagle, who has committed some "unforgivable deeds" (clarified in footnote #10 that the eagle had eaten from a sacrificial animal, perhaps swooping down and snatching it off the altar). The eagle and the serpent make a pact to assist each other with their food supply. Whatever the eagle kills will be shared with the serpent and his young, while anything the serpent catches will be shared with the eagle and his young too. Since there is an air of mutual distrust, the serpent decides that they should swear their oath on Shamash, the sun god, who can "see" all that occurs below. If any one of these creatures harms the other, then Shamash will judge them accordingly.

Well, only a few lines pass before the eagle turns to his evil ways again. On page 192, he decides to kill the serpent's young. No reason is given, such as the scarcity of food, so we must assume that this decision is simply wicked. Interestingly, the eagle's children protest their father's decision, telling him that he "oversteps the limit" (193). This generated a little bit of discussion, since young children often recognize the wrongdoing in their parents' behaviors through their innocence.

Remember that wisdom is the combination of knowledge plus experience. Children lack both, but they first are taught the limits and rules (knowledge), forcing them to test these limits through their experience. I recalled a time when I had lied to my own mother. In the middle of her verbal tirade against my behavior, the telephone rang. It was one of her friends who was inviting our family out to dinner, but my mother didn't want to go, so she told her friend that we had other plans that night. As soon as she hung up the phone, I informed her that she had lied to her friend, and that she had just told me that lying was wrong. Well, suffice it to say, I learned not to say those things to my mother, who was not at all pleased by my comments.

Kids see things black and white, but adults know the grey areas and how to assess and manipulate them. Psychologists tell us that children reach a certain age (usually between ages 5-7) at which they understand right from wrong, and can consciously comprehend that performing a bad action will result in punitive outcomes. This is called the "Age of Accountability." The important point about this is that, once you cross over into the land of experience and wisdom, there is no returning to your innocence. One does not simply "forget" what is right and wrong, and there is no way to erase this understanding unless you have a brain injury, etc.

To add to this idea, we will read in Gilgamesh that Enkidu, the wild Nature-boy created to be Gilgamesh's companion, will cross over from nature to civilization through an initiation ritual, and there will be no chance of returning to a wild, uncultured state. A different translation of the epic tells us that Enkidu's "wisdom made him weak." What? We have been taught that "knowledge is power," and it is. However, how we use this power will determine the appropriateness of our actions. In other words, as soon as we come to an understanding or a realization about something, we then must cope with these scary truths about life.

For example, the first time you realized that you will one day die, you were forced to face this reality, much like Inanna faces those three demons in the huluppu-tree. Once you learn how to lie to another person, then you know that deception can be an important tool to get what you want (smart people arer the most dangerous). This does not condone the action, but it is what happens inside all of our heads. Once you realize the ugly realities about life, then we must wrestle with the fears and anxieties about aging, dying, or even living life. When we were young, we seemed immortal and indestructible. As we get older, we realize that we are frail, weak, and at the mercy of our world. Perhaps this is what is happening with the eagle -- he is fearful that the serpent might strike first or fearful of starvation (we are never told directly), so he acts on his fears and impulses. A little kid doesn't think twice about putting his hand inside the tiger's cage, but an adult is fearful that the cage may not be strong enough to contain the beast. Ah, the bliss of innocence!

Back to the story .... The serpent returns to his nest, only to find that the eagle has killed his young. The serpent cried up to Shamash, the sun god, and begs him to enact justice on the evil bird. If nothing is done, the serpent knows that the "punishment due to you [the eagle] would revert to me" (195). In other words, someone must pay, and the serpent knows that it will not be him!

Shamash instructs the serpent to hide himself inside the carcass of a bull. When the eagle enters to pick through the entrails, the serpent will be able to lurch out and attack his tormentor. Once again, the children of the eagle see through the trap, and they tell their dad to avoid the carcass, but you know what happens. The eagle is bitten by the serpent, and his wings are clipped, grounding him and removing his special features. Ironically, this is when the eagle pleads to Shamash himself for assistance. The eagle exclaims that he will "broadcast your [Shamash's] fame for eternity" if allowed to recover. Is this some kind of selfish ploy to acquire Shamash's mercy?

Interestingly, Shamash offers the eagle help -- not directly, but in the form of the king, Etana, who will travel from a distant land to meet and help the eagle. Do you think that Shamash fell for the flattery? Perhaps, but we will learn that Shamash operates very fairly. Why does Shamash not simply kill the eagle? Simple -- one cannot kill an intermediary. If we were to kill the eagle, then who would help us to be lifted up to heaven? The eagle will be given a second chance, as it must.

Etana himself is on a quest to discover the "plant of birth," since he has been unable to bear a child with his wife. He is told by Shamash that he can find this secret if he tends to the eagle. Once healed, the eagle carries Etana upwards in the sky. After an ascent of three miles high, Etana becomes fearful, and he asks the eagle to bring him back down to earth. The eagle shrugs his shoulders, casting Etana down through the air. On several occasions, the eagle swoops under Etana, catching him before impact. What in the world is the eagle doing? Is he teasing Etana or trying to intimidate him? Or is he proving that he is indeed trustworthy, since he is constantly saving Etana's life from the free fall? Both are valid, but ultimately, the eagle carries Etana to the sky, so we must assume that his intentions are at least somewhat favorable. Etana meets with the gods, and he is given his wish, bearing a son to assume his throne. Unfortunately, the text is broken, so we don't know the content of their discussions.

Several morals to this story include "listen to your children," "avoid wrongdoing," "don't trust others blindly," "crime does not pay," etc. Notice that Etana and the eagle need each other to redeem themselves and to achieve the things that they desire. Etana did not have to heal the wounded, villainous bird, and the eagle was not forced to repay Etana with a trip to the skies. Sometimes, we need to work with bad people to attain our own greatness.

The Huluppu Tree

The collection of stories in the Inanna text are arranged from Inanna's childhood through her adult years as a powerful goddess of love and war. Therefore, the first story, "The Huluppu Tree," will show Inanna in her youngest form, a pre-pubescent girl. On page 5, Inanna finds a little tree floating in the Euphrates River. She rescues it and plants it in her holy garden (of Eden). She yearns for the day when this tree will become mature and she will be able to use the wood to make her throne and her marriage bed.

Inanna, as a girl, had many fears. Page 5 tells us that she feared "the word of the Sky God, An" as well as the "word of the Air God, Enlil." In other translations, we might find the word "word" to more accurately indicate her "fate." In other words, Inanna feared her fate that her parents had always told her about -- that one day she would become a woman and rule over the land. Although she is eager to sit on a throne and bark out orders, she is afraid of the changes that will take place in her body as she enters womanhood for the first time.

I often ask the men and women in class to reflect on their pre-teen years. I ask the guys if they had ever feared puberty. Most give me a blank stare. Why would a guy fear puberty, which implies greater height, strength, and power? Most boys are indifferent to puberty, and young men reluctantly accept the fact that our voices and bodies are changing. Women, on the other hand, go through a different transformation than do the men. A girl who becomes a woman during the advent of her first menstruation suddenly bears a great burden. She can now become pregnant and assume the responsibilities of a woman, caretaker, etc. Several women have commented in class over the years about how they heard the "horror stories" from their older sisters and friends who complained about aches and pains associated with the cycles. In other words, girls have many more fears of womanhood than boys have about manhood. This is important.

On page 6, we see that the tree is growing up, but not fast enough for Inanna. Over the course of time, the tree has also collected a group of unwanted visitors -- the serpent at the roots, the lion-headed Anzu bird at the top (whose wings can stir great whirlwinds), and a strange, sexually charged woman, Lilith, lodged in the trunk of the tree. All three of these symbols represent Inanna's fears of womanhood. I strongly urge you to consult pages 141-142 of your Inanna text. You will find a critical essay by Diane Wolkstein that explains these symbols quite well. In brief, the serpent represents life, particularly the changes that we go through in life, such as from an asexual being to a sexual one. The bird represents the dominance of the outside forces that weigh down on women and prevent them from exploring the true pleasures of life. Lilith is the fabled first bride of Adam, who refused to mate with him because she demanded equality, which he refused to give her. Lilith dwells in the woods and screams wildly, suggesting the untethered sexuality bursting forth from her body. There is a lovely picture of her on page 6.

To rectify this problem, she asks Utu, the sun god, for help, but he refuses. Why? Well, how can Dad help his daughter when she has her first menstrual cycle? Dad will defer to Mom or another trusted female to assist his daughter with her feminine issues. Inanna must find another to "make it better." She finds her cousin Gilgamesh, a mighty warrior, who swings a 450-pound axe. He hews down the huluppu tree, carves out a bed and a throne for her, as well as a crown and scepter for him. Page 9 depicts a carving of Inanna and Gilgamesh enjoying a little lunch together, sitting around the remnants of the huluppu tree.

Why does Inanna, a mighty woman, need a man to help her out? Well, she really doesnt, but this scene establishes a couple of things. First, Gilgamesh will become the great hero of Uruk, and we will read about his exploits during the next few sessions. Chasing away these demons (intermediaries standing between Inanna and her goals) is his first heroic act. Also, when we were younger and afraid about monsters living under our beds, doesn't the guidance and assistance of an older sibling help to make it all better? Remember that Inanna is just beginning to understand that she has power, so perhaps she doesn't even know that she doesn't need Gilgamesh.

Inanna and the God of Wisdom

The opening scene is very direct and graphic, but it is also a beautiful depiction of Inanna arriving in her full splendor of womanhood. She leans against an apple tree, because an apple is one of those sexual symbols that we saw from the Enki and Ninhursag story. (For your information, the apple tree was a common symbol in Mesopotamia, but not in Israel. When we recall the Genesis creation story, we often refer to the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil as the "apple tree," which provides the "apple" that Eve gives to Adam. Keep in mind that the "apple" is not mentioned in Genesis, only the "fruit." The references to the apple come from Mesopotamia, not Jerusalem.) Inanna leans against the apple tree, exposing her sexual organs into the open air. She is revelling in her new state of womanhood -- she has arrived! Watch out!

This story is a simple one. Inanna has a celebratory meal with Enki, the god of the sweet waters, where they drink lots and lots of beer. While in a state of intoxication, Enki, the god of wisdom and keeper of the holy me (pronounced "may"), hands over his powers to Inanna, one by one. First he gives her high priesthood (page 14), then Truth and the holy priestess of heaven (judgment) (page 15). Pages 16-18 list the dozens of other powers that Inanna gained from her grandpa, including some bizarre powers, such as deceit, treachery, the kissing of the phallus, slanderous speech, etc. Many students were shocked to see "the art of prostitution" as one of her many gifts.

Why prostitution? Well, remember that Inanna is represented in the night sky as Venus. The planet Venus is best viewed very early in the morning (called the "morning star") or very late in the evening (the "evening star"). As the morning star, Inanna/Ishtar/Venus represents fertility and rebirth (and often war). Venus is the brightest light in the sky, save the sun and moon. In the evening, however, she would appear in the western sky, often inside of particular constellations, including the constellations that depict men. When these stars dipped under the horizon, Venus was said to be taking a new lover to bed. After disappearing from view (into the Underworld), nobody knew what actions Venus and her consort might be up to. This is where we gain the reference to Venus in the evening sky as "the lady of the evening." this makes sense when we see that one of many names for a prostitute is a "lady of the evening."

On page 19, after Enki wakes up, he looks around for all of his me, but cannot find them. His advisor informs Enki that he had donated all of his powers to his daughter the night before, and he must be too drunk to remember. Enki sends six types of demons/monsters after Inanna to retrieve the powers. They are depicted on pages 21 and 23 -- the enkum-creatures and the lahama monsters, amongst others. After several failed attempts, Enki allows Inanna to keep those powers, especially after he learns that she has used some of them to establish temples and houses of worship in the holy city of Uruk. Inanna places the holy me in her "Boat of Heaven." In our next unit on Egypt, we will see the boat of heaven described as a vessel that transports the sun and the sun god's retinue. In the Mesopotamian culture, however, Inanna's "boat" is really her vagina. She is collecting the godly powers and applying them to her feminine nature, thus creating the all-powerful woman. The creatures that Enki sends to retrieve the me cannot penetrate the boat, because Inanna will not allow them inside.

When Inanna arrives back in Uruk, the celebrations begin. Inanna helps to "restore" Uruk back into the hands of woman, and the powerful Inanna teaches the women of Uruk all about their powers. Women are the keepers of sexual power, and it is up to them to determine how and when they use it. Since women were considered to be more closely connected with nature (and men with society), we can see how men and women view their sexuality differently. Social critics of our generation often suggest that today's women do not use their sexual powers to their potential, since our culture/society values different attributes about love, sex, and marriage than did the Mesopotamians.

The Coutrtship of Inanna and Dumuzi

In The Courtship of Inanna and Dumuzi, we see Inanna prepared to take a husband, Dumuzi, which will complete her ascent into womanhood. Although Inanna is not an Earth Mother goddess, she still represents fertility and has earthly ties. She is descended from the moon god and moon goddess, so she is fully vested in her feminine qualities (mutability, connection to nature, etc.). Because of this, she is consistently associated with the earth and its cycles, especially pertaining to agriculture.

On page 30, Utu, the sun god and brother, tells Inanna that the harvest is here, and that he will be bringing her the grains and fruits of the fields. Utu will bring Inanna some flax, an ancient grain that resembles wheat, so that it can be transformed into something valuable to human beings, crushed into flour or threaded into linen sheets. Inanna asks her brother who will do all of this work, and Utu says that he will do it all. By harvesting the grain and creating a sheet of cloth, Utu establishes an interesting metaphor that pertains to both farmers and new brides. The linen cloth was used to clean the newly harvested grains. Two people would gather the wheat in the middle, grab hold of the corners, and thrust the grain into the air, allowing the wind to carry away the husks and the chaff (the inedible parts). Once the parts have been separated, then the workers can transform it into whatever thay need. This cloth is also represents the bed sheet on a marriage bed. It was dyed white and kept clean, as is a virgin. The newlyweds would consummate their marriage together on the fine linen sheets, which would have been examined by the parents afterward to deternine if the couple actually participated in their marriage duties (blood on the sheets), and also to make sure that the woman was a virgin. (And you thought your parents were nosy!)

So we see the linen cloth as a dual symbol, pertaining both to the agricultural realm as well as marriage. Therefore, when Inanna asks at the bottom of page 31 "Who will go to bed with me?" she is asking Utu who her husband will be. His response is simple -- marry the shepherd Dumuzi. However, Inanna does not wish to marry Dumuzi, since he is a shepherd, not a farmer. She complains about her dislike for the feel of wool, and she wonders how she can appreciate a man who does not work the earth, as does a farmer. Poor Dumuzi is standing right there, listening to Inanna reject him before ever speaking a word.

A powerful symbol is at play here. Inanna, being so closely tied to the fertility cycles, understands agrarian ideals much more than shepherding. She is looking for someone much like herself, perhaps because she sees this as a more natural fit. Don't we seek out people who share similar values and interests? Dumuzi finally speaks and says that he can offer Inanna more and better things than can the farmer. The duality working here is simple -- Inanna is at a crossraods of the duality between nature and society. Farming is an ancient tradition, and essential for life in a community. Shepherding is a later arrival in these early civilizations, since the harvest was more important to people than was meat and wool. The farmer represents the ties to nature, but the shepherd reveals the attitudes of the society (this is your typical "nature vs. nurture" argument). The shepherd is more powerful than the farmer because he has more control. A farmer must hope that the gods provide the rain and the appropriate growing conditions. The shepherd gets to fight off the hungry wolves, herd the sheep and goats into pens and enclosed areas, and be more free from one plot of land. Obviously, shepherding is not more or less important than farming, but the responsibilities of these occupations reveals their connections to either nature (farming) or society (shepherding). By rejecting Dumuzi, Inanna is really rejecting submission into society, much like she rejected the concept of growth into adulthood in The Huluppu Tree.

However, Dumizi convinces Inanna that they are a good match. He make an appeal on page 34 to sit and discuss their differences, and they compare the power and influence of their families. What they discover is that they are both different, but that they need the qualities of the other to make them complete. Sure, nature will work against society, and society against nature, but together thay can achieve a balance and harmony that allow both to flourish. After their argument, they fall deeply in love (or lust?). On page 35, Ningal, Inanna's mother, convinces Inanna to take Dumuzi's hand in marriage, because he will play the roles of father and mother to her, offering both protection and nurturing. Inanna listens to her mother's wisdom, perhaps because they share the experience of womanhood together, and Inanna can trust her mother's advice more easily than the words from Utu. However, Inanna will put Dumuzi to the test.

On their wedding day, Inanna dresses in her finest raiments before asking Dumuzi an important question, "Who will plow my wet ground?" Notice that Inanna refers to her body as the Earth, and her lover will be the one who tills the soil, opening it up to receive the seed of life, then covered, nurtured, and harvested. Inanna uses these agricultural terms because they represent her essence. When Dumuzi answers ("I will ...") on page 37, the land begins to sprout and flourish with new life everywhere. Perhaps the season of Spring has arrived, and not the world is maturing. Perhaps Inanna is really asking whether Dumuzi will take care of her. After all, a farmer must tend to the field every day hands-on. The shepherd leaves the house, enters the distant pasture, does his job, and then returns home each night. Maybe Inanna is seeking a constant companion rather than someone who is perpetually leaving the homestead and disappears over the hills.

On page 40, Inanna explains that she has walked into the forest, kneeling by an apple tree (another growth and fertility archetype), and "poured out plants from my womb." Here, Inanna is presenting herself as a fertile, life-bearing goddess. The season of Spring has arrived in full bloom, with conception and birth is occurring everywhere. Again, please view these actions metaphorically, not literally. On page 42, we see another reference to the linen sheet on their wedding bed, representing a culmination of the harvest (by processing the grains into cloth) and the union of man and woman. They hold each other and share the pleasures of their marriage with wild abandon -- they make love fifty times!

On pages 44-45, Inanna explains to her new husband his "fate." At the top of 45, look closely at the first four lines. Amongst other things, Inanna places herself into four different roles in their marriage. First, she says that she will be Dumuzi's "leader" in battle. But then, she mentions that she will be his "armor-bearer," "advocate," and "inspiration." The role of leader seems to be in opposition to her next three roles of servitude. How can she be both leader and follower simultaneously? Remember that Inanna was the representation of the planet Venus, which appears both in the morning and evening (as the "morning star" and "evening star"). As the morning star, Inanna (or Ishtar, Venus, etc.) displays boldness and passion, which are two fierce qualities associated with war. In the evening, she slips peacefully over the horizon, going to bed with the other stars and constellations in the sky. In this form, she was associated with love as "the lady of the evening." Therefore, Inanna is both a leader and a follower. She will provide Dumuzi with his reason for fighting (playing the role of protector) and love-making. Essentially, these two characters are carving out their roles in their marriage, just as we all do (who will wash the dishes, take out the garbage, etc.?). The story ends with the land in full bloom.

Dumuzi, however, asks to be "set free" in the last stanza of the poem. Why? Simple: Dumuzi is a shepherd, which means that he must leave the house and travel to his sheepfold. He'll be back later, and will make love to Inanna once again, but now the realities of life kick in, and the honeymoon appears to be over. Perhaps Inanna's initial fears had some merit after all. She'll get Dumuzi in the next story!

The Descent of Inanna

In The Descent of Inanna, we see Inanna as a fully grown goddess. She has had many adventures and experiences between the previous story (The Courtship of Inanna and Dumuzi) and this one. You should know that Dumuzi was her first lover ... but not her last. She has fallen in love hundreds of times by now, and has been with many, many men (gods). She gathers a reputation as a wild lover, but also a man-eater of sorts, chewing them up and spitting them out when someone new comes along. When we get to the story of Gilgamesh, we will see Gilgamesh reject Ishtar's (Inanna's) advances, due to her reputation. In fact, Gilgamesh recalls what Ishtar had done to Dumuzi as one of his reasons for rejection (Dumuzi will be called "Tammuz" in many translations, and this name appears in the eighth chapter of Ezekiel in the Bible).

Inanna plans to enter the Underworld to visit her older sister, Ereshkigal, who is mourning the loss of her husband, Gugalanna, the Bull of Heaven. However, anyone who enters the Underworld will never be allowed to leave. To the Mesopotamians, the Underworld represented the "place" in which the person resides after death. It is NOT hell, which is a term designated for eternal punishment. Instead, the Underworld is a dark, dusty, and lonely place where nothing ever happens. Imagine entering the scariest old haunted house imaginable. Inside it is dark and has fallen into disrepair. The floorboards give way, spider webs hang from the bannisters, and no lights in the house are working. Now imagine that you decide to explore the musty basement of this ancient house. As you step down the stairs, you smell the dank mildews and chase away the rats. Entering the bowels of this basement, you realize that you are standing in a lifeless, dark, and scary environment, where your cries for help go unheard. You sense that others are around you, but you do not interact with them. In a sense, the Underworld represents a lifeless, lonely existence. You are not being punished, but you have no worth, value, or purpose either. You are "just there."

The Mesopotamians believed that three realms existed: heaven, earth, and underworld. The heavens were the distant stars in the sky. You can reach as high as you can, but you will never be able to touch them. You can build Towers of Babel, climb the highest mountains, or jump as high as possible, but you will never reach the sky. This distant, unreachable place is referred to as "the heavens." The earth should speak for itself, a place that is influenced by events occurring both on earth and in the sky. It is the realm of duality, human life, and a middle state. The Underworld would have been the unknown depths of the Earth's crust. Sometimes, the Underworld would be represented as anything beyond the horizon, or the locations on the other side (or the underside) of the land. Although no one ever returns from the Underworld to tell us what it is like, it must be dark, scary, and lonely. Since the Mesopotamians buried their dead, they incorporated the idea of their loved ones' spirits residing under the earth somewhere (hence the name "underworld").

On page 53, Inanna instructs her trusted servant Ninshubur about what to do if Inanna does not return. She tells her friend to ask the gods for help if she becomes trapped in the land of no return. Therefore, Inanna clearly knows that she has a difficult journey ahead. By page 55, she has descended the stairs and approaches the door to the netherworld. She knocks, and the door is answered by Neti, the main gatekeeper of the seven gates into the Underworld. He asks her what she wants, and she tells him that she is Ereshkigal's sister and that she comes to attend the funeral of her brother-in-law. He tells her to wait so that he can ask the Queen of the Underworld, Ereshkigal, what to do.

But wait. There is something else going on here. On page 55, Inanna says that she is "[o]n my way to the East." However, the East always represents life and rebirth -- the West represents death and dying. Why would she be traveling through the Underworld to get to the East? Joseph Campbell explains that all of us are "twice born," and that we have to "die" before we can assume a new "life." For example, when you meet your significant other, your single life "dies" so that you can be reborn into a new person, one who is not alone any more, but rather part of a whole -- your relationship. Likewise, when you become a parent, part of your old life is replaced with a new one, filled with new responsibilities and challenges that changes the way that you live your life. If Inanna is traveling to the East, then she is metaphorically seeking a rebirth, which can only occur through a death, hence her visit to the realm of the dead.

Furthermore, let me give you some insights into Gugalanna, the Bull of Heaven, a character that we will see in Gilgamesh as the representation of drought. If Gugalanna has died, and he represents death, then what has died? Drought! (See the Gilgamesh story.) The way to kill a drought is to apply water, which replaces it (or chases it away). Perhaps this story really represents the changes that occur from the season of winter into spring. Inanna knows that the cycles of life whirl around and around, and that there is always a new life after each death. She is going to pay tribute to the end of winter and the beginning of new life in the East. She is going to become born again. First, however, she needs to experience death. Hence, the Underworld. Inanna ia already the "Queen of Heaven and Earth," as your book's subtitle indicates, but does she control the Underworld? No. Perhaps she is curious about it so that she can also assume power over the third of the three realms?

On page 56, Inanna gathers together seven Holy me, her powerful weapons and wisdom that she will need to do battle with the forces of the Underworld. These take the form of royal robes and assorted jewelry. At the bottom of the page, though, Ereshkigal (Queen of the Underworld) tells Neti (the gatekeeper) to allow Inanna in only one gate at a time, removing one of the seven me as she passes through each gate. Pages 57-59 show Inanna's passage until she finally arrives in the Underworld completely naked. Immediately (page 60), Ereshkigal attaches the "eye of death" onto Inanna and hangs her corpse on the wall. Inanna is dead.

Ninshubur, Inanna's assistant, begins to ask the gods for their help. First she asks Enlil (Ellil in our previous stories), who refuses to help. Next, she visits Nanna, Inanna's father, but he too says no. Why won't these father figures offer any succor to Inanna? Perhaps because they have no power over the Underworld, as each god and goddess controls limited aspects. Furthermore, Inanna is an adult woman now, and she needs to fight her own battles, especially since nobody forced her into the Underworld! Much like in the earlier Inanna stories, Inanna must face her own life changes, as nobody else cal experience these things for her.

Enki is the only god who make a commitment to help Inanna, and he does so on page 64 by creating two androgynous creatures, a kurgarra and a galatur. He gives them the food and water of life, and he sends them into the Underworld. Because they are neither male or female, they will be allowed in and out of the Underworld at will, and they will not be subjected to the same rules that mortals and gods must follow. But why is their lack of sexual identity a benefit (or a condition that circumvents death)? Perhaps this has a lot to do once again with dualities. As men or women, we live in a world of opposition. The only way we can rise above these dualities is to transcend these dualities. One way that we shed our dual natures is through death. In death, we are not male and female. We finally share the exact same experiences together, if you will. Therefore, sexuality is an inherent part of a dualistic being, just like we are living in one side of the duality of life/death.

If we were to avoid the traps and conditions of this dualistic state, then we would not be living in the forms that we are in right now. That would be impossible, given our world that we live in. Keep in mind that we don't die because we are men or women, but that, in death, we become unified in our experience. An agendered creature, therefore, is already a unified idea, much like the way that many cultures conceive of their gods (as a transcendent entity that is not locked into the world that we know, but a different one where there are no distinctions between the dualities). The term "androgynous" is made from the combination of "andro" (implying the male, such as in the hormone "androgen") and "gyno" (referring to the female, as in "gynecologist"). These creatures, therefore, are neither male nor female (or they could be BOTH). Either way, they have nothing to offer in the Underworld, nothing to exchange, and nothing to lose. They are already unified, so death does not change their natures.

(NOTE: We will complete our look at this story in Thursday's class.)

Important Notes or Announcements:

Now that the coursepackets are in, I will NOT be posting any more handouts, since they will be located inside.

Please let me know if there are any problems or concerns regarding these materials.

Final announcement: Next Tuesday (June 22) is our first test. I will provide you with a study guide next time, and we will discuss the format and content of the test on Thursday. Please do not worry.

Today's Handouts:

Reading Guide: Gilgamesh
Gilgamesh Notes
Epic Conventions
Gods in Gilgamesh
Comparing the Floods of Genesis and Gilgamesh

Extra Goodie: Here is a link to a BBC picture website that shows the passage of the planet Venus between the Earth and Sun. The ancients would have developed stories based on the movements of the stars and planets. If you missed last Tuesday's celestial show, here are some pictures of this twice-in-a-lifetime event: BBC: Pictures of Venus.

Due Next Time:

The Epic of Gilgamesh, tablets I-VII (Dalley, 39-90)
Gilgamesh Notes
Epic Conventions
Gods in Gilgamesh
Take-home question for Quiz 4 (see below)

Question for Quiz 4:

How does Enkidu represent the growth and development of mankind from "Nature" to "civilized"?

Thursday 10 June 2004 TOP

Today's Topics:

Today we continued our examination of Mesopotamian literature by reviewing Enki and Ninhursag and Atrahasis, one of many stories from this region about a great flood. We did not have time to discuss Etana, so we'll cover that title on Tuesday.

Enki and Ninhursag

Enki and Ninhursag is a fertility/creation story. Dilmun, the setting of the story "east in Eden," is a place of purity, where no disease, pain, or suffering exists (mainly because no life has yet been created, being the winter season). "Eden" means "delight," and a location to the East of this place of delight must be more delightful (closer to the East symbolizes birth and youth, while the west implies death and suffering). Enki, the sweet waters god, makes a natural match with the Mother Goddess, Ninhursag, who would be called Mother Earth today. Since these personas represent natural identities, their deep love of each other makes a lot of sense. The waters will penetrate the sand in a similar way as Enki makes love to Ninhursag. When you see these characters making love, please remember that it is symbolic of natural events.

I showed a map of the probable location of Dilmun (Eden). Click this link to see it: Dilmun. Also, here is a diagram of the four main rivers in nthe Fertile Crescent, all of which are mentioned in Genesis: Four Rivers (NOTE: scroll down about 3/4 the way to see the map).

In the first section, Enki has become very aroused with the Mother Goddess, and they make love. Miraculously, Ninhursag gives birth in nine days' time to a daughter, Ninsar, Mistress of Vegetation. Through the union of water and eater, vegetation is born. However, the season begins to change, from winter to spring, forcing Ninhursag to depart from Dilmun (in the Middle World) so that she can give birth to other parts of the world. She leaves Enki behind to tend to the waters, and also leaves her daughter Ninsar, who also has magically grown into a full goddess in nine short days. "Ninsar" means "vegetation," so her birth reflects the new plants that grew after the first combination of water and soil. This reminds me of early Spring, when suddenly an abundance of life springs open. Plants also grow faster than humans do, so the time frame is realistic (to a point). Remember that these ancient cultures placed these gods and nature ideas into personified human forms. A human incubates for 9 months, so the plants are given similar timetables, couched into human terms. This is a good time to remind you that Enki is not a person, but the water, and Ninhursag is simply Mother Earth, not a real woman. Taken literally, this is a story about incest and rape. Metaphorically, it's about the changing of the seasons.

One day Enki is traveling on the Euphrates River when he sees Ninsar in the distance. He asks his oarsman to drift toward this woman who reminds him of his departed lover Ninhursag. He advances on his daughter, who is "curious and eager" to discover sexual relations. They make love, and Ninkura is born, goddess of mountain pastures. Look more closely at the metaphors and their union makes logical sense -- if Enki is the water, and Ninsar represents the plants, don't we want the water to seep into both the soil AND the plants? Enki is not an immoral criminal (those are judgments from society, not nature) but simply watering the plants. What could be more natural? Don't we have to water the plants to make them grow? Should one plant be jealous that another receives rain water as well? Ninsar grows with child, and quickly gives birth to Ninkura (mountain pastures). In other words, watering the plants creates a whole field of plants! Not only is this natural, it is necessary. Perhaps this is akin to the season of summer, when the spring plants have had a chance to flourish and dominate an entire field.

Similarly, Ninkura is charmed by Enki's wiles when she becomes curious about a pool of well water in Part 2. Enki makes love to Ninkura, and their union creates another child, Uttu, the Spider and weaver of patterns and life desires. By Part 3, Ninhursag realizes that she should warn Uttu about Enki's lusty advances to prevent her from falling victim to him. She does not appear to be jealous that Enki has been impregnating his children with his seed, perhaps like how the flowers are not jealous that the same bee that pollinates one flower eventually makes it around to hundreds of others, cross-pollinating an entire field of flowers in a single day. Remember, Enki is not a person ... he is water.

Interestingly, Uttu is a spider, the weaver of dreams, not a plant. Perhaps this reflects the evolution found in Genesis, where water and earth first make a connection, followed by the appearance of the plants, and then the animals. Maybe Uttu is the representative of the higher-order creatures coming into existence. The spider also spins a web, usually connecting plants to each other. The spider also has eight legs that tendril outward in a spiral, perhaps symbolizing that life extends out in all directions, creating more diversity.

Enki uses a different approach to charm Uttu. He knocks on her door and asks if he can do anything for her. She tells him to fetch her some cucumbers, apples with their stems sticking out, and grapes in their clusters. So he visits the gardener, collects the food, and returns to Uttu's house. He sleeps with her too, but she does not feel very well afterward, so she runs to Ninhursag for help.

Why does Enki bring Uttu these particular plants? Well, cucumbers, apples, and grapes all had sexual connotations. The cucumber may resemble the phallus, while the bunch of grapes might parallel the bountiful quantity of eggs inside a female (I like to think of roe, a clump of fish eggs, that collects into a bunch). The apple has long been associated with fertility, perhaps when we look at the stem imbedded into the top of the apple's flesh (an overt sexual reference -- the stem is inserted into the plump, meaty flesh of the fruit). Also, these three plants all contain seeds inside their flesh, perhaps suggesting that the male force will penetrate the flesh to make use of the seeds. If Uttu didn't get the hint before, she certainly found out what Enki was after soon enough.

Interestingly, this story is where the Garden of Eden gets its apples. I am not aware of a translation of Genesis (except for Milton's Paradise Lost, 1667) where Adam and Eve eat an apple. The Bibles that I own use the word "fruit" exclusively, not "apple." So, why do we say that Adam and Eve eat an apple? Perhaps its origin comes from this very Sumerian myth. Remember that one goal of mine is to show you the origins of the Judeo-Christian tradition, and this is one of them!

In Part 4, Ninhursag removes the semen from Uttu's body (don't ask me how) and buries it in the ground. In nine days, eight different types of plants pop out of the soil. Soon afterward, Enki is once again riding in his boat when he spies the new vegetation. Curious about these new plants, Enki devours them all voraciously, and then starts to feel really sick. Ninhursag is now very mad at Enki, and she tells him that she is leaving him for good. Soon enough, Enki begins to die, and the gods are helpless. A kindly fox decides to search out Ninhursag himself and convince her to assist the lord of the sweet waters. After all, if all the fresh water were to "die," then life itself would come to an end. However, Enki will not be allowed to die. The gods are immortal, but not because the storytellers simply say so. Rather, Enki, being fresh water, MUST survive, because his death implies death to everything. What are the two Mars rovers searching for right now? Water (we know that Mars had lots of Ninhursag at one time, and where there is water there is life).

Ninhursag lovingly embraces Enki. She carefully placed Enki's head "on her vagina" in a symbolic representation of a birthing posture. Ninhursag, the Earth Mother, will essentially "give birth" to Enki. Recall Joseph Campbell's comments about the universal motif of being "twice born" or "born again." This is what is occurring here. Near the end of the story, Ninhursag asks Enki where he hurts, and he replies with eight different areas of pain (from the eight plants that he consumed). Amongst this list is a reference to the mouth (ka). Look for a parallel in the Egyptian unit, where Ka will be one of three forms of a human soul as it leaves the body on its journey to the afterlife. Also of note is the reference to Enki's pain in his ribs (ti is the Sumerian words for "rib"). When Ninhursag cures Enki of each disease, she "gives birth" to this energy in different forms. When she rebirths Enki's rib pain, it arrives in the form of a goddess Ninti, which is an interesting play on words in its original language. "Ninti" means three things: "queen of the months," "lady of the rib," and "she who makes live." Although we don't appreciate these puns, there is a clear connection to the creation story in Genesis 2, which we will read later. In Genesis, chapter 2, Eve is also referred to as "she who makes life," and we also know that she was born of Adam's rib. Remember that the Enki story is one-to-two thousand years older than Genesis. These references are scattered throughout the literature of the Near East, and a few of them find their way into the Old Testament too. Watch for connections like these.

Enki is eventually cured and humbled. He vows to be more modest in his behavior, and he learns a valuable lesson about being responsible. What may surprise you is the fact that Sumerian children practiced their grammar by writing this story (and many others too), very much like the children of the Middle Ages reading and rehearsing their Bible passages.

The Power of Myth

We also discussed topics from chapter 3 of The Power of Myth, including Campbell's discussion about how men and women are initiated into adulthood differently. Campbell explains that women are initiated into womanhood on the day they have their first menstruation -- Nature imposes this change upon women, who have no choice but to accept the fact that they are now life-bearing entities, responsible for their behaviors and actions in an adult way. Men, on the other hand, are initiated by their societies. Campbell discusses (pages 101-104) how some tribal cultures will take the young boys away from their homes (such as a hunting trip), where some painful and memorable initiation ritual occurs. Some boys are forced to drink the blood of the hunted animal, or sometimes even drink human blood. Often, they are scarred and mutilated so that their physical forms are different (pirecings through the nose and lips, branding, tattoos, etc.). One popular ritual in the Judeo-Christian tradition is circumcision (the removal of the foreskin from the phallus). Today, most boys are circumcised a day or two after they are born. They have no memories of this experience, and they certainly were not conscious of the pain (at least in terms of our memories). The Jewish bar mitzvah is a ceremony where a young boy is ushered into adulthood. Although this tradition is thousands of years old, today's 13-year-old boys typically do not face their circumcision on their birthday, rendering the bar mitzvah to a simple party or family gathering, much like other holidays. Years ago, however, these boys would be very aware of their physical transformation on their 13th birthday, and the memory of this experience would stay with them as a constant reminder that they are now men.

This is why many older men still behave like little boys. Although 55-year-old women do exist who still act like little girls, it is more common to find men who have not yet "grown up," mainly because they have not experienced that life-changing experience that forever transforms them into adults. Too many times, a "man" will run away as soon as he learns that his girlfriend is pregnant -- literally running away from his responsibilities. But the woman becomes a mother and falls into her new role as caretaker. I asked the guys in class if they had any life-changing rituals or experiences. Over the course of many semesters, many answers focus around the death of one's father, a military experience, moving to a new state or country on your own, etc, and even near-death experiences. Woman may also have these societal rituals that help them to better accept their womanhood (weddings are good examples). But all this tells us that the woman is closer to Nature and its influences, while men are governed more by the limits placed on them by their societies (laws, customs, social mores, etc.).

Also, Campbell recalls the theories of a 20th century Jewish philosopher, Martin Buber, who categorized our relationships with the world around us as existing in one of two states: "thou" and "it." Imagins a small circle, and inside is written the word "I," representing yourself. Anything that is a part of you (your mind, body, etc.) belongs to you, and therefore you have an intimate stake in how the "I" is treated. Apart from yourself, however, is everything else in the world. If you consider something to be an extension of yourself, then you will see yourself inside the other, and you would call that a "thou" (the word "thou" is the Middle English way of saying "you"). However, that which you consider expendable, disposable, or apart from your interest is relegated to becoming an "it."

Campbell recalls the pioneers in 19th century America who slaughtered the buffalo simply for their skins. If you have seen the film Dances With Wolves, there is a powerful scene where hundreds of buffalo were shot, skinned, and left to rot on the open plains. The Native Americans would have used each and every part of that animal, and only would have killed these creatures for survival. The natives viewed the animals as "thous," not "its," as the "white man" had done. So, ask yourself these questions: do you treat your friends and families as "thous" or "its"? If you are a man, but you view women as objects, then you are seeing them as "its," since you are objectifying them. If you throw your trash out of the car window, you are not treating the environment as a "thou." but certainly as an "it."

Campbell discusses how the ancients understood the connection to nature much better than we do, since they made a ritual out of their killing, unlike us who just buy pre-packaged meat, clearly labeled and bound by shrink wrap. We are removed from the life cycle because we do not raise and slaughter the animals. The meat in the styrofoam package is an abstract commodity, removed from the living, breathing, thinking, loving creature that once animated the flesh. The same can be said for those who grow their own gardens. If you are attached more closely to the cycle of life, then you will appreciate the world and protect it better than if you see it as an object, or an "it." Today, in the 21st century, more women understand this than do men. You, the reader, may be an exception to the "rule," so please accept the overgeneralization.

Atrahasis

On page 2 of the introduction, we learn that the name Atrahasis has parallels in the surrounding cultures. In Babylonia, the survivor of the flood story is a man named Utnapishtim, whom we will see in the story of Gilgamesh. In Hebrew, we would pronounce this name "Noah." Stephanie Dalley, your translator for these readings, further suggests that the name Odysseus (the hero of The Odyssey) derives his name as well from the abbreviation of Utnapishtim, Udzi (Odyssey). All of these stories, and dozens that are similar, seem to suggest that flood stories were popular and pervasive in this place in the world, and most of it undoubtedly survived in oral form rather than written. Since merchants and other travelers shared these tales far and wide, there is little doubt that the creation tales and flood narratives from the Near East bear resemblances to each other.

Another interesting piece of info comes from the top of page 6 in the Dalley text. Here we see references to several numbers that map out time. Although these figures don't mean much to you now, we will see these same numbers (and permutations of them) throughout the semester. These are called "precessional numbers," and this refers to the slow rotation of the Earth's axis over a 26,000-year period. We will see this better explained in the coursepacks as well as a future video that we will see in the Egyptian unit. All of the numbers are symbolic. The most popular precessional number is 72, as well as its divisions and multiples. The ones that we have seen already include the number 7, best illustrated in the 7-day week. Why seven? Not only does the moon officially change its phase every seven days (new moon, half moon waxing, full moon, and half moon waning), but the ancient astronomers could not figure out why the stars in the sky stay "fixed," while seven other objects changed their locations constantly (the sun, moon, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn). Whenever we see a number, it most likely refers to an astronomical observation.

Tablet I of Atrahasis begins with the Anunnaki (the eldest creator gods) pawning off their labor to the lesser gods (the Igigi), who complain about their work being too difficult, digging endless canals and trenches. This argument will encourage the gods to create mankind so that we may do this work, while giving these gods a rest. On page 10 the Igigi set their wooden farming tools on fire, and on page 11 they knock on Ellil's door, demanding an explanation. Ellil is frightened by the demands of his own children, so he calls together his fellow gods Anu and Enki to settle the disputes. By page 12 we find that the Igigi have "declared war" on the Anunnaki. On page 13, Ellil decides that mankind should be created to ease the burden of the gods' work, but in order for this to occur, one of the gods must sacrifice his body. This god will be Gestu-e (NOTE: some versions of this text list the name as Ilawela), a god of intelligence, whose blood will be mixed with fertile clay from the riverbanks. The Mother Goddess will combine the clay and blood to form mankind, a beautiful melding of the male/female forces. Be aware that the Mother Goddess goes by several different names, including Ninhursag, Mami, Nintu, etc. They are all the same, but these names reflect different duties that they perform. Nintu, for instance, means "birth lady."

By pages 16-17, Mami is mixing the clay and the blood, ultimately creating seven male and female humans simultaneously. Several references are made to the rituals of childbirth, especially those involving a newly stamped brick. Apparently the bricks used at the time used to puff out in the middle when they cured (dried), thus resembling a pregnant woman's womb. Again, these are symbolic ceremonies, and are not to be taken literally. Interestingly, Mami dictates on page 17 that mothers should cut their own umbilical cords, perhaps to suggest that a mother, not the midwife, should determine for herself when she is ready to "let go" of her child into the world. Once they are created, the humans assume the labors of the gods. However, this causes them to make a lot of noise, which makes Ellil very frustrated and annoyed. After 600 years have passed with human beings, Ellil decides to send the suruppu-disease to Earth, causing the people to become sick and die.

Interestingly enough, different versions of these stories suggest different explanations for the "noise" that the first humans generated. In this story, the noise seems to refer to the general chaos of overpopulated villages, abuzz with activity. In other stories, the gods destroy the humans because they are sinful (Genesis) or because they blaspheme the gods (from an Egyptian story called "The Destriuction of Mankind," which we will read later). Still other versions suggest that the "noise" made by the people is the din of carousing and partying people, irresponsible and disrespectful. A fifth version refers to the noise made by humans as the opposite -- that the people are working so hard, day and night, that their constant industry keeps the gods awake all night. No matter what the reasons, these early cultures were aware of the fleeting nature of life -- here today, gone tomorrow.

Atrahasis will become a hero to his people. Because he had communicated intimately with Enki for many years, Atrahasis can ask special favors of the great god. Bear in mind that the Sumerians believed in "personal" gods who could assist individuals (sort of like angels in Christianity). Each person would have a patron god: a warrior might pray to Ellil, a new mother to Ninhursag, etc. Atrahasis prays to Enki (Ea in other parts of the story), and his friendship will benefit him greatly. Atrahasis prays to Enki on pages 18-19, asking Enki what he can do to relieve the people of their terrible diseases. On page 19, Enki advises Atrahasis to pray (and offer sacrifices to) Namtara, the "decider of fate," and gatekeeper to the Underworld (you may refer to this character, loosely, as "the devil"). After building a great temple to Namtara and offering sacrifices, Namtara is shamed by the outpouring of love and removes his "hand" -- that is, he removes the violence that was caused by his own hands (or the hands of the Anunnaki collectively). By praying and sacrificing to the gods who are harming you, you can shame them into better behavior -- killing them with kindness. Therefore, if the devil has been troubling you, then treat him kindly! Please remember that I use that term "devil" very, very loosely. Remember that gods and demons are often interchangeable in mythology, since the good works done to one person are viewed as evil works to someone else (sort of like terrorists vs. freedom fighters).

In Tablet II, 600 more years have passed, but Ellil is still angry at the "noise" of the humans' labor. He decides to send down five additional curses on humanity, beginning with a drought on page 20. By removing the rainwater, the crops dry up and the people begin to suffer and die. This may have succeeded in killing all of humanity, except that Enki advises Atrahasis to rebel against the gods and offering more sacrifices to Adad, the god of the storms. Sure enough, Adad becomes touched by the generosity of the people, and he eventually brings the rain once again. This, of course, infuriates Ellil so much that he tries again to kill mankind through starvation (page 22). This time, the effects are even worse than before, causing death and illness across Sumer. Ellil does not stop there, however, since he also curses mankind a fourth time (with more disease, on page 23). By the time we arive on page 24, Ellil further punishes the people with additional drought and starvation, and by page 25 we see a six-year drought that has so harmed the people that they begin resorting to slavery and cannibalism ("They served up a daughter for a meal," page 26). Clearly, this depicts a desperate society that is struggling for survival in a very harsh and unpredictable environment. Remember that the forces of Nature are out of our control, symbolized by the gods.

By page 27, Ellil is furious that his droughts and diseases have not reduced the number of human beings (and therefore the noise too!). His advisors suggest reversing his strategy -- bring down a flood rather than a drought! However, which god is in charge of supplying the flood waters? Enki, amongst others, since Enki is the god of the sweet waters. The problem is that Enki does not want to destroy the people that he helped to make. Enki and Ellil get into a great verbal fight over this, ending with Enki agreeing to bring the flood waters (although he will find a way to help the people too!). Enki makes a vow to not inform the people of their doom, but Enki has a crafty plan.

Why does Enki go along with the plan and also assume a vow of secrecy about the flood? Well, imagine the Anunnaki as a version of our Supreme Court. Typically, the court renders divided opinions (split decisions). Many issues are decided on 5-4 margins, where five justices in the majority overrule the other four dissenters. However, the judges in the minority opinion must abide by the new law, even though they voted against it. After all, the law is the law. Enki and Nintu would be considered in the minority, so they must go along with the plan against their will.

At the start of Tablet III, on the bottom of page 29, Enki speaks to the "wall" of Atrahasis' "reed hut," which will be heard by Atrahasis in a dream. This indirect method of relaying the information allowed Enki to retain his pact with his brother deities, but also allows humans one last fighting chance against their heavenly tormentors. Enki tells the wall to demolish the reed hut and to build a boat, collect samples of the living beings, and to sail away to safety. Although no dimensions are mentioned nor specific types of animals recalled, this story is the precursor to the more familiar story of Noah in Genesis 6-9. Unlike the Bible story, however, Atrahasis involves his whole family and community, so there could have been dozens or hundreds of human occupants aboard the boat. The members of the community, even the children, help him build his ship of multiple levels (see page 30).

Notice that Enki's behavior is very sly and sneaky. This is typically the attribute of the feminine forces (not women, remember). Since Enki is a water deity, and since water is mostly a feminine concept since it flows freely without inhibition, Enki (a male god) retains the attributes of the feminine forces. Perhaps the most familiar character acting this way is the serpent in the Garden of Eden, who slyly tempts Eve into eating the forbidden fruit. We will look at this story later in the semester, but for now please realize that the serpent in that story is not "evil." The words that are used to describe the serpent include "cunning," "crafty," "sly," etc. The serpent will play the feminine roles, and Eve (a female) will naturally slip into this mentality. Enki does the same here -- talking to a "wall" during a man's "dream" is technically not breaking Enki's vow of silence that he promised to the other gods (or is it?). Watch for gods that play sneaky roles in order to get what they want. Most times, when the gods break these rules, they usually are doing it to benefit humanity, not to destroy it. We'll see the same things occur in Inanna and the God of Wisdom (one of Tuesday's readings) and Isis and the Name of Ra, an Egyptian story that we will read in a few weeks.

By page 31, the storm arrives, rages for seven days, and then subsides. By page 32, however, Mami (Ninhursag) is furious with Ellil for destroying their creations. Atrahasis' boat lands in an unspecified location, at which point he exits his boat and offers a sacrifice to the gods who "smelt the fragrance" and gathered "like flies over the offering." This line can be found in Genesis as well, and it suggests that these gods love to be loved, especially after living for an entire week without any worship from the humans. The line in Genesis depicting Yahweh gathering around Noah's sacrifice "like flies" originates with the story of Atrahasis. Why would God be viewed as a fly? Well, much like the birds, flies are also considered to be divine entities. The fly represented death, as well as bravery in battle. The Mesopotamians often made jewelry in the shape of flies (often dragonflies), and adorned it with the beautiful blue stone, called lapis lazuli.

It is also possible that they are desperately hungry and thirsty by the seventh day because they depend on these sacrifices in order to survive. (This makes Ellil's decision to destroy mankind quite puzzling.) Believe it or not, Ellil is one of these gods enjoying the wafts of the sacrifice, which makes Mami furious at him. She scolds him for wishing to destroy the humans, but is eager to receive their offerings! After some arguing amongst each other, Ellil figures out that Enki must be to "blame" for relaying the plan to the people below, and he makes his feelings known to the sweet waters god, who replies that he did what he did "in defiance of you [Ellil]," suggesting that the older gods have lost touch with their creations, forcing the newer gods to take aggressive action to replace the old-fashioned ideals of thei elders.

In the end, the gods agree that total destruction of mankind is not in their best interests, but neither is limitless birthing of children. A compromise is reached where one-third of the parents are allowed full childbearing privileges, one-third will struggle with their conceptions, and one-third will remain barren, thus slowing the pace of human regeneration. Interestingly, scientists have concluded that, even 21st century America, one out of four couples will not be physically able to conceive or birth children successfully. This shows me that the Sumerians were excellent observers of their societies, and that these stories help us to arrive at explanations as to why certain things occur in our lives while others do not. Thus, we see the value of the myth to a culture.

We did not have time to address the Etana myth, so we'll look at it next time.

Important Notes or Announcements:

In case you missed it above, we did not have time to discuss Etana today, so we will begin Tuesday's class with this story.

Also, next Tuesday I have dubbed "The Day of the Woman." We will review the four principal Inanna stories (in the Wolkstein text), which are very short and easy to follow, showing the rise to power of Inanna, the great goddess of love and war. Be forewarned that several overt and blatant references to genitalia are made in these stories. She is the goddess of love, so her fertility is priized above all of her other features. If you are concerned about any of these references, please contact me so we can talk about it. You will never look at agriculture the same way again after reading these!

Also, I would like to point out that the textual notes and essays in the back of the Inanna book are outstanding. If you have any opportunity at all to look at these materials, you will see more of the inside story and helpful academic interpretations.

Today's Handouts:

Reading Guides: The four Inanna stories in the Wolkstein text
Adapa (Dalley, 182-188)
Genesis 4 (Cain and Abel) -- This links provides access to The Bible Gateway
Reading Guide: Joseph Campbell's The Power of Myth, chapter 4
Ancient Underworlds
Archetypes

Due Next Time:

Etana (Dalley, 189-202)
The Huluppu Tree (Wolkstein, 3-9)
Inanna and the God of Wisdom (Wolkstein, 11-27)
The Courtship of Inanna and Dumuzi (Wolkstein, 29-49)
The Descent of Inanna (Wolkstein, 51-89)
Joseph Campbell's The Power of Myth, chapter 4
Take-home question for Quiz 3 (see below)

Question for Quiz 3:

Why are the galatur and kurgarra creatures able to escape the underworld unharmed?

HINT: These creatures appear in the fourth story in the Inanna text, The Descent of Inanna. They enter and leave the underworld at will, but Inanna (and all other creatures) cannot. Once someone enters the underworld, there is no return. Think of the underworld as symbolic of death -- once you arrive, you are there to stay. Yet, these two bizarre creatures can come and go freely. Why? What is so special or different about them? Explain your answer.

Tuesday 8 June 2004 TOP

Today's Topics:

Today we completed our look at the introductory creation stories, began our Mesopotamian unit, discussed The Epic of Creation, and took our first quiz.

In completing the creating stories, I reminded everyone of the major themes that we had introduced last week, including the idea of dualism. The duality of society/nature is a male/female force duality that we began witnessing in The Epic of Creation, and will be an on-going theme of the semester. 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. Most of these early stories are basic metaphors for ordering the universe, and creation stories do this directly.

The Rig Veda creation tale (from ancient Hinduism) demonstrates the creation as first existing in a feminine ideal, then action from the male forces causes the dual mixture to stir, thus creating a third, unique entity. Notice that this reading overtly states that nobody knows about creation, since creation came long before the gods did! This story begins with a watery void of chaos (feminine qualities), and then in infused by "seminal powers" ("seminal" means "semen"). We see these male and female forces at work here. The end of this reading suggests that God Himself might not know too. This does not dilute the power of the god concept, but rather places it into a different construct than Western ears are accustomed to hearing. We'll understand where this tale is going when we study the Eastern unit later this semester.

I also summarized the Hindu creation story from the handout, called "The Churning of the Milky Ocean." We will see this tale represented in beautifully in an up-coming video, Quest for the Lost Civilization. At the beginning of creation, the gods were not successful in acquiring the elixir of life from the bottom of the ocean. Vishnu, the Hindu god of preservation, incarnates himself into a tortoise that rests at the bottom of the ocean and allows Mount Mandara to pivot upon his back, allowing the mountain to rotate easily. Working together, the gods AND demons equally assist each other to stir the mountain that churns the elixir of life. The gods tugged at one end of a giant snake (Vasuki), while the demons yanked at the opposite end. The snake wrapped itself around the mountain (Mount Mandara), thus twisting the mountain with each tug. The churning motion released the magic waters, which still had to be separated from the poison (remember that with the good comes the bad!). The Hindu god of destruction (Shiva) volunteered to drink the poison, which turned his throat a deep blue color. Since then, Hindu art depicts their gods as having blue skin, a sign of holiness. Western art typically uses a halo around a god's head. Again, the looks of a god are not necessarily representing the way the people actually looked -- everything is symbolic.

There are a few tricks played by Vishnu in this story, and trickery will be a common motif this semester as well. Cunning or slyness (trickery) is usually associated with the dark forces (devils, demons, etc.), not the gods or the forces of light. However, Vishnu transforms himself into a beautiful woman (Mohini), who attracts the demons and forces them to follow her commands. This trick allows the gods to sample the nectar of immortality, but the demons were left with none after Mohini disappears. Thus, we see an example of a god acting like a demon (a force for order acting like a force for chaos). Likewise, we also see instances where the demons act in orderly and structured ways, such as when they agree to participate in the churning (they play an equal role with the gods) and when they adhere to the promises that they make to Mohini. Much like the yin/yang that we saw last week, a little speck of sinfulness appears in the gods, and a little speck of righteousness appears in the demons. Both sides must work together to create a perfect balance. In order to understand this, however, we must see past (transcend) our limited world of dualities.

In sum, we looked at the consistent interplay between male and female forces in each of these stories. Each Creator contributes to the world only by assimilating, commingling, or accepting these dualities into one transcendent manifestation. In other words, we see male creator gods who create by injecting their idea into the form (the feminine contributions). The male force (spirit, soul, idea) cannot create anything unless it uses the female force (water, soil, egg) as well. These stories do not tell us the secrets of where all these things came from, but they show how the pre-existing entities must combine in order for a third to be created (an original form of the "holy trinity"). Campbell explains these stories as helping us to see the Divine in our surroundings. Several stories show creatures springing forth from cracked eggs, and then combining their creative ideas with their shells (forms) to create the first beings. These beings then take over the creation themselves.

Before taking our first quiz, I addressed the class with a riddle:

The sky is blue. What color is the sky?

Hmmm. This question seems to be loaded (it is), but it represents the issues that we will constantly face when reading literature from the ancient world. The riddle seems to have an obvious (and literal) answer. If you said "blue," then you are looking at this question literally. However, the ancient cultures did not write in literary terms into their myths. We must train ourselves to always look behind the mask, and to uncover the "hidden" meanings of these stories.

The answer that I was looking for is "grey" (if the sky is blue, or sad, then it might cry, therefore making the sky a cloudy grey). Avoid looking at these readings in literal terms. If you do, you will bias yourself against these stories, while missing out on their beauty. Our reading assignment for today involves the murder of one's parents by the children. Hmmm. Do you think that this story is really about murder? No. These actions are metaphoric, and we will be able to crack this "code" very soon. Everything must have an alternative explanation beyond the literal. Of course, many times the literal meaning will make the most sense, but often too this is not the case. Let's examine the distinction between "truth" and "validity":

If you believe that you are a good person, but everyone else disagrees, then wherein lies the truth?

This is a mere test of perspectives. Surely, you must know yourself better than others, since you know your intentions behind your actions. However, is it not possible that we can become blinded by our own arrogance, thus ignoring that inside of ourselves that is obvious to someone else? Hitler thought that he was a good person. What did he know anyway (hint: himself)?

There really is no way to answer this, mainly because the question is not fairly worded. The answer is never just "A" or "B," but both "A" and "B," while simultaneously neither "A" nor "B." More on this later.

I will avoid discussing "truth" in this class, since mythology does not address "truth" directly. Instead, we will concentrate on the validity (reasonable acceptability) of an argument. Cavemen looked on the horizon and concluded that the Earth was flat, since that's what their eyes were telling them. Their conclusion was false, of course, but given their understanding of the world and their limited technology with which to measure it, this answer is quite valid, although untrue. Let's strive for validity in our interpretations -- you don't have to be "right," but you do have to have a strong supporting reason for your interpretations.

We then addressed some ideas from chapter 1 of Campbell's The Power of Myth, including Campbell's outlook on marriage. Campbell states that a true marriage is a union between two spirits, or two people who understand and respect each other's inner beings. Recall that the exteriors of the two black geese in the Earth Diver story were identical, telling us that we cannot tell by looking at someone what their inner natures might really be. We may see a nice person, but his actions could be quite the opposite. Therefore, one's exterior is never a valid representation of the soul. A wise student last fall felt that people shouldn't marry those whom they are attracted to, but rather the ones that they still wish to talk with years from now. If marriage is a true union, then the idea of the individual must be extinguished and replaced with a unified duality (the realm of gods, who can transcend beyond dualistic forms).

Today officially begins our unit on Mesopotamia. In looking at these first few readings, we should understand some basic background of these cultures. "Mesopotamia" means "the land between the rivers," specifically the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers, located in modern-day Iraq. These rivers, although separated by a range of 20-100 miles in most places, would flood every spring. These floods would often spill over into the flood plain, essentially drowning the land between these rivers, causing great distress for the people. These floods were often unpredictable, and these early civilizations had not yet garnered the technology necessary to build dikes and dams (as exist today). Therefore, these people were at the mercy of the elements.

The culture that lived closest to the mouth of the rivers were the Sumerians. These were the people who are credited with establishing some very important "firsts": the first written language, the first calendars, and much of the earliest mythology. Upstream lived another great culture, the Babylonians, who grew to be a powerful group of warriors. About 6,000 years ago, the Babylonians fought and defeated the Sumerians. However, unlike today's tactics in warfare ("shock and awe" and "mass destruction"), the Babylonians integrated the Sumerian culture into theirs. Had they set fire to the temples and smashed the tablets containing the stories, then they would have lost the wisdom of the local Sumerians about how to survive in that part of the world. The agriculture was different, the water flow was more extensive, and the proximity to the Persian Gulf allowed the Sumerians greater knowledge of the greater region. If the Babylonians wanted to survive, then they needed to use (borrow, incorporate) the knowledge collected by the Sumerians. Hence, their mythologies became intertwined and assimilated. This is the reason that many of the characters in today's reading (and several others to follow) switch their identities. Ea, the Babylonian god of the fresh waters, was combined with Enki, the Sumerian deity of the same ilk. In the next few stories, we will see that these names become interchangeable.

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). This means that the Sumerians, who would fetch water from the rivers each day, were sometimes inconvenienced by the surge of ocean water into the Tigris or Euphrates, making them temporarily undrinkable. When these events occurred, the society had to find another source of water -- or pray to their gods to return the sweet waters. Essentially, this tale of creation tells the story of how to refresh the river water and send the salt water back out to sea, re-establishing order on Earth. This is where the story begins.

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. Their 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. Remember that this story is a metaphor, and it is NOT about patricide. The tale is a metaphor, and 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.

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. So, if you are going to one day take over your family's business, you will undoubtedly 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. Many of these Mesopotamian stories show that the older generations were "out of touch," and had to be overtaken by the younger, more capable children. In this story, the collected names of the old guard of gods is Anunnaki, opposed by the band of younger gods, called the Igigi.

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. This 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 the "Tablet of Destinies," which gives him control over life and death. This would be like Hamlet's mother signing off her entire estate to her new husband before her murdered husband was in the grave. (Something smells fishy in Denmark.) 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 he is successful against the now-evil Tiamat. The gods meets, 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 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.

Notice two diagrams located in your study question packet for this story. Both are artistic renditions of how these early cultures viewed their heavens and the earth. Notice that both drawings show the land as a flat and limited island floating in a sea, bound by some arbitrary border, drawn by God. Above, the stars and planets are stuck to the ceiling of a sky-dome (hence, the word "firmament," pertaining to the celestial bodies that are firmly affixed to the roof of the sky). Why does the sky have a firm roof? Well, look more carefully and notice that there are waters floating above the sky, but are not allowed inside except when the "floodgates" are opened (rain). When Marduk divides Tiamat's body, he recycles it, essentially using her water to surround the air and land of the earth, kept separate by the gods, each controlling his/her own aspect of this balanced setting. This arrangement places the gods firmly in charge of Nature, and it explained why the sun and moon don't fall from the sky. Now all we need is a Tower of Babel .... By the way, "Babylon" means "Gate of the Gods," so these diagrams pay tribute to these entrance points.

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. Marduk is praised, given royal garments to wear, and shrines are built in his honor. Marduk instructs his fellow gods to build temples for worship 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.

In Tablet VI, Marduk finally takes action against Qingu. Marduk asked 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, mixed with clay, 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 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. 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 remaining pages in the story introduce a new character, whom we will become well acquainted with: Ishtar (or Inanna), goddess of love and war. 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.

Important Notes or Announcements:

Today we took our first daily quiz. If you missed today, here are some things to know about these quizzes:

1) All quizzes and tests in this class are open-book and open-note, so fill out those reading guides!
2) We will take these quizzes during the first hour of each class, leading into our first break.
3) If you miss a quiz, you may make it up either by taking it the following class meeting or you can make an arrangement to take it during the week.
4) Each quiz will be worth 3% of your semester average, excpet the first quiz (which will count as 2%)
5) Each quiz will contain two parts: an in-class series of brief multiple-choice questions AND a paragraph-length response to a question that I pose at the end of the previous class. The take-home question will be worth 5 points, while the in-class questions will be worth 2 points each (you will always receive partial credit for attempting a question, so GUESS when you are unsure of an answer). I will convert all grades into a percentage, so the total number of "points" on each evaluation may differ. Your take-home question is located below. You may either hand-write your response OR type it out, if you prefer. Please do not exceed ONE PAGE for these take-home questions. They are NOT intended to be essays, but rather as opportunities to examine a weekly issue more thoughtfully.

Today's Handouts:

Enki and Ninhursag (text) / Reading Guide: Enki and Ninhursag
Reading Guide for Atrahasis
Reading Guide for Etana
Genesis 5-9 (Noah and the Great Flood) -- I did not make copies of this story since most of you have a Bible at home and are familiar with the story, and our department is running out of paper! Here is a link to access this story on the Internet if you do not have access at home: Bible Gateway. (NOTE: We will NOT discuss the details of Noah's Ark, but will use it as a contrast to this unit's texts. You do not have to bring this story to class, nor will you be quizzed on anything from Genesis.)

Due Next Time:

Enki and Ninhursag (handout) / Reading Guide for Enki and Ninhursag
Atrahasis (Dalley, 1-38) / Reading Guide for Atrahasis
Etana (Dalley, 189-202) / Reading Guide for Etana
Take-home question for Quiz 2 (see below)

Question for Quiz 2:

Contrast the creation of people in The Epic of Creation (Enuma Elish) and Atrahasis.