Upon hearing the sad news of the death of Dame Mary Douglas last week, I was thinking of writing up a short post on her significant contribution to the study of the Old Testament/Hebrew Bible — in particular her ground breaking understanding of the purity laws in the book of Leviticus. As it turns out John Hobbins has beaten me to it over at Ancient Hebrew Poetry.
You may read his thoughtful post here.
Charles Halton has written an interesting list of the “Top Ten Old Testament Scholars Since 1800” over at Awilum. The only surprises on the list (IMHO) are the inclusion of Thompson and Van Seters at number nine. While I am not denying their significant input in biblical studies and would probably be in a top 50, they are not top 10 material. I would have to agree with some of the comments that as far as living scholars Emanuel Tov should perhaps be included.
The big question is what criteria were used to make the list. I would think that such a list should only include scholars whose influence spanned across sub fields within Old Testament studies and who influenced the field not only through their publications but also through their students. Thus, the inclusion of Wellhausen, Gunkel, Noth, von Rad, Albright, and Childs. On the other hand, I wouldn’t include Thompson or Van Seters, since they are one trick ponies (no offence intended). That is also why I wouldn’t include the likes of Jacob Milgrom, Sarah Japhet, Phylis Trible, etc., but I would perhaps include S.R. Driver, C. Briggs, Sigmund Mowinckel, and Dominique Barthelemy high up in my list. Furthermore, Dever isn’t even an Old Testament/Hebrew Bible scholar, so he wouldn’t make my list at all (that, of course, depends on how narrowly you define “Old Testament scholars”).
Ah, “the making of many books lists there is no end, and much study wearies the flesh”
Shawn Flynn over at Palimpsest has some interesting thoughts on Septuagint criticism and its use in biblical studies, particularly in the study of the Hebrew Bible/Old Testament.
One of the primary issues that he raises at the beginning of his post is the distinction between “interpretive” translations and “faithful” translations. While I understand what he’s getting at (and the theoretical model underlying his perspective), I’m not sure that such a distinction is always easy to maintain. Nevertheless, the distinction does underscore the important first step of assessing the nature of the Greek text you are dealing with.
Shawn further highlights six steps/questions that should be considered while determining the nature of the LXX text:
These are all good questions and they represent sound method.
The question that his post raises for me is the high expectations often places on biblical scholars. I personally have read enough NT or OT scholarship to know that scholars often use the LXX uncritically. In fact, even when I was reading some articles for my posts on Psalm 2:12 I was surprised by the way the LXX was appealed to by scholars — some of whom should certainly know better. The problem is that it is hard enough to keep up in your own field of studies, let alone someone elses field! Should the NT scholar have to be a LXX scholar in order to use the LXX? These unrealistic expectations plague scholarship in general. Archaeologists look with contempt at biblical scholars who attempt to engage archaeological data; biblical scholars roll their eyes at theologians when they appeal to the Bible. I could list many more examples, but you get my point.
In my opinion, while any biblical scholar who appeals to the Septuagint in a scholarly context should use the best critical texts available and employ sound method, that does not mean she or he has to become a Septuagint scholar. Of course, the degree to which an argument depends on the LXX, the more expertise is required. Thus, a NT scholar who is investigating the quotations of the Old Testament in the New better have a good grip on Septuagintal scholarship! It is the responsibility of Septuagint scholars to disseminate the results of their research to others and produce tools for others to use without having to re-invent them, so to speak.
So while I agree in principle with Shawn’s post, I wonder if he is being too idealistic? What do my readers think?
Goats and Scrolls
While it is not odd to see the Dead Sea Scrolls in the news — especially with the scroll exhibit touring the United States — there is an interesting article by Judy Siegel-Itzkovic in the Jerusalem Post today about how DNA evidece from the goat skins used to make the parchment for the Scrolls helped piece together some of the Scroll fragments. The article, “How goat skin DNA solved a mystery of the Dead Sea scrolls,” doesn’t really say anything new, but is interesting nonetheless. Here are some relevant excerpts:
Scientists at the Hebrew University’s Koret School for Veterinary Science near Rishon Lezion are helping to piece together some of the 10,000 fragments of Dead Sea Scrolls found decades ago in Qumran by examining the DNA profiles of the goats whose skin was used to make the parchment and reducing the number of possible matches.
Dr. Galia Kahila Bar-Gal said during a journalists’ tour at the nearby Hebrew University Veterinary Teaching Hospital, where students learn and treat animals, that she and colleagues were looking at genetic forms from each fragment to know which came from specific animals. Once they know that two pieces came from the skin of the same animal, it is easier to piece them together, she said.
Scrolls and Tehillim
The Dead Sea Scrolls also made the headlines in the Jewish Tribune, according to the blogger with the coolest moniker, Mississippi Fred MacDowell. He recounts how he was sent a clipping of a letter to the editor of the London-based Agudist newspaper that claimed “Secular and non-Jewish scholars have to admit that the Tenach scrolls are word-for-word identical with our texts and not with those of Samaritans (Kusim) and early translators (Septuagint – Greek, Targumim in various Aramaic dialects, et al). But the spelling is often different, in many vavs, yuds and alephs.” MacDowell responds to this claim with an interesting discusision of the view of the Dead Sea Scrolls in many orthodox Jewish communities and his response to such claims. In particular he talks about the various textual tradtions found among the scrolls, let alone the high number of unaligned texts. You can read his discussion on his blog, On the Main Line, in his post “A threat to Tehillim? Dead Sea Scrolls in the Jewish Tribune.”
The only beef I would have with MacDowell’s post is found in this paragraph:
In fact three or four kinds of Hebrew texts were found at Qumran (depending on how you divide it). The first are Bible texts that are much like the masoretic text (and comprise about 60% of the material), the second seems to be a type of Hebrew text that the Septuagint was translated from (only about 5%), the third is like the Samaritan Pentateuch, lacking only the ideological changes that are present in the Samaritan version (also about 5%). A fourth type are texts that can’t be placed into any of these categories (about 105), and finally there are non-Biblical Hebrew texts which are unique to Qumran, comprising about 20% of the total. In other words, exactly the opposite of what the writer claimed.
Some of the numbers didn’t quite ring true, and I believe may be based on Tov’s older estimates (there are also some issues with breaking down the scrolls in this manner, but I won’t get into that for now). The most recent figures I have seen break down the biblical scrolls found at Qumran as follows:
Either way, MacDowell’s point remains valid. Despite the variety found among the Dead Sea Scrolls, MacDowell is correct to point out the following:
And the Dead Sea Scrolls proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that the massoretic text is not late, it is at least as old as the Samaritan and the Hebrew Septuagint. Conversely, it also proves that 2000 years ago “the Bible” was not exclusively massoretic.
That’s the good news, if indeed this is good news. But its important to understand that these massoretic Dead Sea texts are actually massoretic-like, not identical with our own text. This means that many words as spelled differently in ways that don’t matter, as the letter writer notes, but also that many words are not the same at all.
It’s a good read; make sure to peruse it for yourself.
The debate surrounding the translation and interpretation of Psalm 2:12 continues. For some context, you can see my previous post here, while John Hobbins has some further (good) reflections on why it is inappropriate to capitalize “Son” in this verse (assuming you understand the phrase as “kiss the son”), even if you understand further christological significance in the passage.
Turning our attention back to the actual text critical problem with this passage, Chris Heard has posted on the difficulty of translatingÂ × ×©×§×•Ö¾×‘×¨ (“kiss the sonâ€? or the like) in Psalm 2:12. He notes a recent article in German by Liudger Sabottka on this passage in question in Biblica 87 (2006), entitled, “Ps 2,12: ‘Küsst den Sohn!’?â€? [“Ps 2:12: ‘Kiss the son!’?â€?]. Sabottka suggests taking the verb × ×©×§ as an example of × ×©×§ II, “arm or equip” with a privative meaning, e.g., “disarm.” He further takes בר as “pure, sincere,” and offers the translation, “Rüstet ehrlich ab!â€? or as Chris translates it, “Really/truly/honestly disarm [yourselves]!â€?
While this interpretation is possible (are not all things possible?!), I’m not convinced it is the best. While the privative use of the Piel stem is acknowledged by all Hebrew grammarians, it is not very common. According to GKC it is limited to denominative verbs (i.e., verbs that derive from nouns) and occurs only a handful of times (see 52 h). Jenni similarly notes this usage in his Das Hebraische Pi‘el (p. 273), though he eschews the specialized privative function and understands it as a general factitive-resultative use (and Waltke and O’Connor follow Jenni in this regard, see 24.4f). While this understanding × ×©×§ in Ps 2:12 is certainly possible, I am not sure that such a rare usage is warranted. Furthermore, in all of the examples of the privative function noted, none of them are ever modified by an adverb, let alone an adjective. To say the least, I remain unconvinced by Sabottka’s proposal.
While many proposed interpretations of the phrase × ×©×§×•Ö¾×‘×¨ focus on understanding בר bar, perhaps a better way forward is through an examination of the verb × ×©×§ nashaq. The verb itself occurs 35x in the Hebrew Bible (this includes supposed homonyms), including the passage under scrutiny.
Here is a breakdown of how the verb is used:
The remaining five instances are more problematic:
Based on this examination of the verb usage, some parameters on how best to understand this passage may be set:
Thus, the understanding “kiss bar,â€? with בר bar being the object of the verbal action is the most plausible interpretation based on the clear cases of the usage of × ×©×§ nashaq in the Hebrew Bible. This still leaves at least two options: the more popular “kiss [the] sonâ€? and the more obscure “kiss [the] ground/land.â€?
I am still unconvinced that the first alternative is the best option. While you do find some contexts where you have an Aramaic word thrown in among Hebrew (the parade example cited is Prov 31:2-3); it is difficult to see it in this context when the Hebrew word for son (בן ben) is used a few verses earlier. Furthermore, while Aramaic would perhaps be an appropriate address to foreign powers, no other parts of the address are Aramaic. In addition – and this is the clincher in my opinion — when × ×©×§ nashaq takes a personal object (like “sonâ€?) it is always marked by the preposition lamed, and in Ps 2:12 it is not.
In working through the data, I have become more convinced that the second interpretation, “kiss the field/ground,â€? is the most plausible. First, it doesn’t resort to head spinning emendations (not that I have anything against emendations). Second, it doesn’t appeal to an odd usage of an Aramaic word in an otherwise entirely Hebrew passage. Third, it fits with the regular usage of the verb, since elsewhere when × ×©×§ nashaq is used with an impersonal object, it does not mark the object with a preposition lamed. Fourth — and this is something that Staffan Olofsson notes in his article — there are ANE parallels to this exact phrase as an act of reverence for a king or a god in the Akkadian expression nasaqu gaggara “kiss the ground/fieldâ€? (see his “The Crux Interpretum in Ps 2:12,â€? in SJOT; I would like to thank my friend Staffan for sending me a copy of this article since I don’t have easy access to SJOT). Finally, this interpretation fits the context of the passage.
The one weakness of this interpretation is that the meaning of בר bar as “field� is not very popular and only occurs in a few other places in the Old Testament (Job 39:4 and the Aramaic parts of Daniel, 2:38, 4:9, 12, 18, 20 (2x), 22, 29). That being said, it is a viable usage and makes good sense in this passage.
This, then, is my final word on Psalm 2:12 (at least for now!).
Just in case you missed church this morning, here is a gospel lesson by Rowan Atkinson, a.k.a. Mr. Bean (If you offend easily, probably shouldn’t watch the video).
All complaints may be registered at The Withering Fig or NT Gateway — no surprise it originated with fellow Canadian and U of T grad and friend Zeba Crook.
The missing image referred to in my previous post was linked to in the Hebrew version of the same article.
Here is a side-by-side comparison of the scroll before (right) and after (left) the part was cut out:
It appears a fairly large portion of the fragment was removed: 1 cm wide at the top and about 2 cm long. Note that no letters were removed. If this image is authentic, then the amount removed was larger than the “two small parts, one-half centimeter each” that Amir Ganor, director of the unit for the prevention of theft in the Antiquities Authority, reported.
The Leviticus scroll discovered (or should I say recovered) by Israeli Archaeologist Hanan Eshel is back in the news. According to an article in Ha’aretz, Eshel is claiming that the Israeli Antiquities Authority is performing unnecessarily obtrusive tests on the fragments in order to determine their authenticity.
Here is the news item, “Archaeologist: Antiquities Authority destroying Leviticus scroll,” by Yair Sheleg:
Professor Hanan Eshel, the archaeologist who two years ago uncovered scroll fragments of the Book of Leviticus, says the Israel Antiquities Authority, which now has the finds, has cut out large chunks of the scroll on the pretext that its dating needed to be examined.
This was not a necessary procedure, says Eshel, since “experts say it was possible to test the dating without an intrusive examination and in the worst case scenario by cutting a tiny, peripheral portion of the scroll.”
Relying on internal sources in the Antiquities Authority, Eshel says “there had even been plans to cut letters from the scroll but the employees that were asked to do so refused.”
Eshel ties the behavior of the Authority to a dispute that emerged between him and officials there and “their desire to prove that the scroll is a forgery.”
Amir Ganor, director of the unit for the prevention of theft in the Antiquities Authority, said in response that “in order to carry out the examination we could not avoid making certain cuts in the scroll itself. This is acceptable in every examination of this sort. We cut only two small parts, one-half centimeter each, from the end of the scroll. At no stage was there any thought of cutting letters, only to scrape off some ink in order to examine it. The minute it became clear to us that we could not have unequivocal results from such an examination, we did not do it.”
However, the photographs published here [where? there was no link or no pictures!] suggest the scroll cuts are significantly more extensive than what Ganor acknowledges and encompass nearly all the part of the scroll that has no writing on it.
Ganor said examinations of the scroll have undermined Eshel’s claim that the finding is authentic.
“I can not give any details because the topic is part of an ongoing investigation of this matter, but the examinations show that different portions of the scroll were written in different periods, which is a blow to the claim that the scroll is homogeneous.”
Eshel, on the other hand, is eager to offer more information on the subject. He says: “The information that I have is that the examination that was carried out at the Weizmann Institute did indeed show that the two portions that were sent for examination belong to different periods – one about 2,000 years ago, and the other about 1,200 years ago. On the other hand, another examination carried out at Oxford [University] attributed both to a period 2,000 years ago.”
Eshel says the Weizmann test results were flawed because of “the use of cleaning and preservation materials. I am not an expert on such exams, but the experts told me that such treatment may certainly result in a flawed examination. In any case, the writing on both segments clearly belongs to the Second Temple period and definitely does not conform to the Mameluk period, which is what the Weizmann Institute examination points to. Moreover, during the search in the cave where we found the scroll, we uncovered other archaeological finds for the period of the Bar-Kokhba revolt, proving the dating.”
I had covered the discovery of the Leviticus scrolls quite extensively a couple years back, so I have an interest in this story. You can see all of my previous posts here, including a step-by-step reconstructions of the fragments. Here is a picture of the fragments shortly after they were recovered:
I would think that if tests could be done on the manuscript without destroying large parts of it, then the IAA would do so.
I wish the news article contained the image that showed how much of the manuscript was cut.
Jim Getz over at Ketuvim has an interesting post on choosing a Bible translation for classroom use. In the end Jim chooses the NRSV, for a variety of reasons which you can read for yourself (For the record, I use the NRSV in the classroom as well, for some of the same reasons). What got my attention about Jim’s post was his discussion of Psalm 2:11-12. To my chagrin, after I had pretty much finished this post I noticed that Chris Heard has also responded to Getz’s post, though luckily (for me at least) Chris did not have all of his resources available to him, so this post actually answers some of the issues that his raised. (UPDATE: Jim has posted a follow-up post on this topic at Ketuvim).
Enough is enough… let’s look at the text in question. Here is a formal translation of the Hebrew of Psalm 2:11-12:
עבדו ×?ת־יהוה ביר×?×”
וגילו ברעדה
× ×©×?קו־בר פן־י×?× ×£
ות×?בדו דרך
כי־יבער כמעט ×?פו
Serve Yahweh with fear,
and rejoice with trembling.
Kiss [the] son/field/purity(!), lest he be angry
and you perish [on the] way
for his anger burns quickly.
The two major difficulties in this passage revolve around the understanding of the phrase “Rejoice with tremblingâ€? (וגילו ברעדה) and “kiss the sonâ€? (× ×©×§×•Ö¾×‘×¨). The former is said to be difficult to understand (how does one “rejoice with tremblingâ€??), while the latter includes meaning of the word בר (br), which will be the focus of this post. Most translations follow the pointing of the MT and understand בר as the Aramaic word for son (e.g., KJV, NIV, TNIV, NLT, ASV, etc.). The problem with this understanding of the passage revolves around the question of why would the psalmist employ the Aramaic word for son in this verse rather than the Hebrew word for son (בן) – especially when the Hebrew term is found just a few verses earlier in v. 7?
If we turn to the Versions, like the Greek Septuagint (LXX) or the Aramaic Targums, we don’t get much additional help. The LXX reads as follows:
δουλεÏ?σατε Ï„á¿· κυÏ?ίῳ á¼?ν φόβῳ
καὶ ἀγαλλιᾶσθε αá½?Ï„á¿· á¼?ν Ï„Ï?όμῳ.
δÏ?άξασθε παιδείας, μήποτε á½€Ï?γισθῇ κÏ?Ï?ιος
καὶ ἀπολεῖσθε �ξ �δοῦ δικαίας.
ὅταν �κκαυθῇ �ν τάχει � θυμὸς α�τοῦ
Serve the Lord with fear,
and rejoice in him with trembling,
Seize instruction, lest the Lord be angry,
and you will perish from the righteous way,
when his wrath is quickly kindled.
The translator evidently didn’t know exactly what to make of the Hebrew (× ×©×§×• בר), if indeed that was his Hebrew Vorlage (which we’ll assume). He evidently knew the meaning of the two words, since he translated × ×©×§ by καταφιλÎω “kissâ€? in Ps 85:11 (LXX 84:11) and rendered the Hebrew בר, “cleannessâ€? (noun) and “pureâ€? (adjective) elsewhere with καθαÏ?ιότης “purityâ€? (Ps 18:21,25 [LXX 17:21, 25]) and καθαÏ?ός “pureâ€? (Ps 24:4 [LXX 23:4]). That being said, he didn’t translate it as “to kiss purityâ€? or the like. In his commentary on LXX Psalm 2, Al Pietersma argues that the translator provided more of an interpretation of the passage, taking “to kiss purityâ€? as “a metaphor for adopting improved behaviour,â€? thus the rendering, “seize instruction.â€?
What is significant is that the LXX did not understand בר as the Aramaic word for “son� (nor did Aquila or Symmachus). The Aramaic Targum seems to take a similar approach as the LXX.
What the Versions teach us is that there are other ways to understand the Hebrew consonants בר than just the Aramaic word for son – but we’ll return to other suggestions in a bit.
BHS (and many scholars) suggest emending the verse to read as follows:
עבדו ×?ת־יהוה ביר×?×”
ברעדה × ×©×§×• ברגליו
ות×?בדו דרך פן־י×?× ×£
כי־יבער כמעט ×?פו
Serve Yahweh with fear,
With trembling, kiss his feet.
lest he be angry and you perish [on the] way,
for his anger burns quickly.
It is this emendation, first suggested by Alfred Bertholet in the early 1900s, which is behind the translation found in the NRSV (among others), and not any sense that בר can mean “feetâ€? in Hebrew (in this regard Getz’s post is inaccurate and Chris Heard is correct insofar as בר doesn’t mean “feetâ€? ). This is a pretty substantial emendation, proposing that the first two letters of ברגליו became separated from the last half and ended up with two words between them, among other things. While this emendation results in two nicely balanced lines of poetry, the gymnastics it requires make me wonder how plausible it really is.
The NEB’s “tremble, and kiss [i.e., pay homage to] the kingâ€? follows a less radical conjecture by reworking the Hebrew to read: × ×©×§×• לגבור ברעדה. Again, while this may be possible, how plausible it may be is another question. (There are quite a number of other suggested emendations; but these will have to do for this post)
This leads many people (and most English translations) to opt for the admittedly problematic translation, “kiss the son.�
Those opting for this rendering muster a number of arguments in its favour. First, while it is odd to have the Aramaic term for son when the Hebrew term is used just a few verses earlier, this can be explained in terms of who is being addressed. In v. 7 the king is speaking and reporting what Yahweh had declared to him, i.e., “You are my son.� In v. 12, however, the statement is being directed to the foreign kings. Thus it is fitting that they be addressed in the official language of their day, Aramaic. This is similar to the usage of the Aramaic בר in Prov 31:2, when the word is put into the mouth of King Lemuel’s mother. Second, while the above emendation makes good sense (almost too much sense), it is next to impossible to understand how a scribe could have made the mistake. Third, all things being equal (which they rarely if ever are!), the MT is the more difficult reading.
I wonder if a better approach would be to dispense of the problematic understanding of בר as the Aramaic “son,� and try to understand it – like the early Versions – as one of the other Hebrew words with the same spelling. Possibilities include taking בר as “field� (see Job 39:4 etc.), which would produce a fitting act of submission, “kiss the field,� i.e., bow prostrate to the ground in homage to Yahweh. It could also be taken as “purity� or “pure� (in line with the early versions), and be rendered like the NJPS “pay homage in good faith� or the NET “Give sincere homage.�
There are other possibilities for this verse, but when it comes right down to it, this verse is truly a crux interpretum – and as such, it is not the best passage to base your selection of a translation on! That being said, it does reveal some tendencies in the different translations. The NRSV is more likely on the whole to adopt critical interpretations of problematic verses, while the NIV/TNIV/NJPS will tend to stick to the MT as much as possible. Finally, translations that capitalize “Son� (NIV, NASB, ESV, etc.) are clearly expressing a theological agenda, which arguably has no place in a translation.
If this post has piqued your interest in textual criticism, see my series of posts on Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible.
This is the fourth and (probably) final post in the series “Ideas of Origins and Creation in Ancient Mesopotamia.� The first post in the series detailed some methodological issues and highlighted some bibliographical resources. The second and third posts surveyed creation texts from the Old Babylonian and the Neo-Bablylonian periods, respectively. In this post I will attempt to synthesize these findings and while I hoped to relate them to our understanding of the biblical creation texts, that will have to wait until a future post.
What ideas of origins and creation can be gleaned from the texts surveyed in the last two posts? Are there any dominant themes and motifs apparent? This section is subdivided into two parts: the first will examine theogony and cosmogony in the texts and the second will deal with anthropology. Theogony and cosmogony are being discussed together for reasons that will become apparent below. Note that this partition is somewhat artificial as some of the texts span both divisions (e.g., “The Epic of Creation�).
The fifteen texts surveyed in the previous posts may be summarized as follows:
[TABLE=3]
There are eight texts that touch on the topic of theogony, two early and six later (A3, A8; B1, B2, B3, B5, B6, and B7). Concerning cosmogony there are five compositions from the Old Babylonian period and four from the Neo-Babylonian era, making a total of nine texts (A1, A2, A3, A4, A5; B1, B2, B5, B7). There are ten texts that somehow discuss or mention the creation of humankind, five from each time period (A1, A2, A5, A6, A7; B1, B2, B4, B5, B6).
It should be apparent from the above texts that it would be impossible to speak of the Mesopotamian view of the creation of the cosmos without speaking of the creation of the gods: in Mesopotamia theogony and cosmogony were inextricably intertwined. Of this W. G. Lambert notes: “In ancient Mesopotamia there was comparatively little interest in cosmogony as such. Few texts deal in any detail with the process whereby the physical universe originated and attained its present form. A much greater interest was taken in the ancestries of the gods, and these frequently have cosmogonic associations” (“Kosmogonie,â€? in Reallexikon der Assyriologie und Vorderasiatischen Archäologie [ed. Erich Ebeling and Bruno Meisser; Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1980-1983], 6:219). It should also be clear from the evidence that one cannot speak of “the Mesopotamian view of creationâ€? as a single specific tradition. Some of the texts have Apsu and Tiamat as the prime movers in creation, while others have the Plough and the Earth, while yet others have Anu the sky god.
The texts will be discussed under three headings: (1) the ancestries of the gods; (2) the creation and ordering of the cosmos; and (3) the relationship of the different conceptions of theogony/cosmogony to geography. Any recurring characteristics or themes will be highlighted.
1. The Prime Elements: Ancestries of the Gods
Much of the theogonic data in the literature takes the form of ancestries of the gods. When discussing the ancestries of the gods it is important to remember that “brief, one-sentence myths and allusions have just as much importance as lengthy epic-style narrativesâ€? (Lambert, “Kosmogonie,â€? 219). In the different texts, typically one of four elements is found at the head of the “genealogyâ€?: Earth, Water, Time, and (less often) Heaven. This reflects the tendency in Mesopotamian literature to reduce everything to one prime element at its inception. A good example of a text that has Earth as a prime element is “The Theogony of Dunnu,â€? where the first pair are the Plough (ha’in) and Earth (ersetu). More elaborate myths of this same type are ones that have the Mother Goddess as the prime element. For instance, in “Emesh and Enten,â€? Enlil and Hursag, the mountain range, cohabit and engender Emesh and Enten. An excellent text that has Water as the first element is the “Epic of Creation,â€? where the lineage of Marduk begins with the pair of water-gods, Apsu and Tiamat (grammatically masculine and feminine, respectively). The “Chaldean Cosmogonyâ€? also fits into this category. None of the texts covered above had Time or Heaven as basic components.
The actions of the prime elements would typically take two forms: either the components represented as deities would themselves bring forth further elements — and the present order of things would result; or the elements would be acted on from without, usually by another god, to produce the known universe. Both “The Theogony of Dunnu� and “The Epic of Creation� would be examples of the first kind. A couple texts that could allude to the elements being acted on from without are “Gilgamesh, Enkidu and the Netherworld,� where Anu takes heaven an Enlil takes earth; while in the “Creation of the Hoe,� Enlil separates the heaven and the earth alone.
2. Creation and Ordering of the Cosmos
Under the rubric of creation and ordering of the cosmos two things can be noted. First, Mesopotamian texts tend to emphasise the ordering of the cosmos over its creation. Once again taking “The Epic of Creationâ€? as an example, only the first twenty lines of the first tablet deals with the creation of the universe, while the bulk of tablets four through six covers its organisation. Various other texts focus solely on the ordering of the cosmos, such as “Enki and Sumerâ€? and “Emesh and Enten.â€? Second, one would be hard pressed to find a text where an item of the cosmos is created by a god. Most of the theogonic texts describe the gods as reproducing, separating, or manipulating things, which is not the same as creating something, ex nihilo, so to speak (I’m by no means implying that the biblical accounts present creation ex nihilo; that’s an issue for another post). Even in “The Epic of Creationâ€? when Marduk “createsâ€? the sky, he does so from the corpse of the vanquished Tiamat.
3. Geography and Conception of the Creation of the Cosmos
J. van Dijk, from his work with Sumerian creation myths, posited that there were two originally separate representations of creation (see his “Le motif cosmique dans la pensée sumerienne,� Acta Orientalia 28 (1964/5): 1-60). The first tradition, in which an embryo-like universe (sometimes represented by a mountain) engenders An, whose marriage to the earth leads to the creation of humankind, originated from the nomadic culture of Northern Sumer around Nippur. The second tradition derived from the region around Eridu in the South, and describes creation as starting from the waters of Nammu and Mother Earth. In this scheme humankind was fashioned from the earth. Dijk suggested that these two separate traditions were later conflated with one another.
Van Dijk’s categorization is followed by most recent works on ANE creation, including Richard Clifford (Creation Accounts in the Ancient Near East and the Bible [CBQMS 26; Washington, D.C.: Catholic Biblical Association, 1994; Buy from Amazon.ca | Amazon.com]) and Kenton Sparks (Ancient Texts for the Study of the Hebrew Bible [Peabody, MS: Hendrickson, 2005; Buy from Amazon.ca | Amazon.com]). Whether or not it is entierly accurate, there does seem to be a connection between the geography of the land and the way the creation of the cosmos was conceived. Of this relationship (though in a different context) Denis Baly notes that “any form of religious belief is required by the environment is, of course, certainly false. Nevertheless, one must recognise that what men believe is unquestionably conditioned by the environment in which they find themselves� (“The Geography of Monotheism,� in Translating & Understanding the Old Testament [ed. Harry T. Frank & William L. Reed; Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1970], 254). This is seen in the so-called “Chaldean Cosmology,� which clearly presupposes the environment of the lower course of the Euphrates and the Tigris.
In relation to the creation of humankind, two points will be considered: (1) the materials and methods of creation; and (2) the purpose of humanity.
1. Materials and Methods of Creation
Typically the two perspectives provided concerning the creation of humankind is that the human either sprang from the ground (a tradition from Nippur) or that the human was formed from a clay mixture, sometimes using the blood of a god (from Eridu). The one text that is in line with the first perspective is the “Creation of the Hoe.� The second type is represented by many compositions. “Enki and Ninmah� and “When Anu Had Created the Heavens� depict humankind as being made out of a clay substance, with no added blood. “The Trilingual Creation Story,� “The Epic of Creation,� and the epic of Atra-hasis all have humanity being made out of a mixture of clay and the blood of a god. In “The Trilingual Creation Story� the blood is taken from two craftsman gods (lamga), while in “The Epic of Creation� it is the blood of the rebel-god Kingu. Likewise in Atra-hasis humankind is composed of the flesh and blood of a rebel-god named Geshtu-e. A couple of variations on this theme exist though. For instance, in “Cattle and Grain,� all that is mentioned is that humankind is “given breath.�
The significance of humanity being created from the blood of a deity seems to imply that in Mesopotamian anthropology humankind shares in the divine nature. This point could be seen as being made more explicitly in Atra-hasis if Moran is correct in his interpretation of the lines:
With his flesh and his blood
Let Nintur mix the clay.
Let the god himself and man
Be mixed together in the clay.
Of the last line Moran notes: “When the goddess finishes mixing the clay, both god and man will be present, but completely fused and compenetrating each other� (W. L. Moran, “The Creation of Man in Atrahasis I 192-248,� Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 200 [1970]: 48-56). Some have also taken the reference to “giving breath� in “Cattle and Grain� to suggest some sort of divine nature in humanity. It would seem that at least in some traditions humanity was somehow understood to share in the nature of a god. Another aspect of the divine nature may be found in connection with a figure named Umul who is the first human baby, fathered by Enki — if Anne Kilmer’s interpretation of the text is correct (see Anne D. Kilmer, “Speculation on Umul, The First Baby,� Alter Orient und Altes Testament 25 [1976]: 265).
2. Purpose of Humanity
A predominant motif found in almost all the creation accounts is the fact that humankind was created for the express purpose of serving the gods. The degree or severity of this service seems to have differed between accounts. Some myths are less specific and only seem to suggest that “serving the gods,� meant to serve them food and drink. For example, “Chaldean Cosmogony,� “Trilingual Creation Story,� and “When Anu Had Created the Heavens,� would all fall into this category. Other tales indicate that the service of the gods was much harsher—that it entailed doing the hard, brute labour that the gods did not want to do for themselves anymore. The myths “Enki and Ninmah,� “The Epic of Creation,� and Atra-hasis seem to suggest this.
This notion concerning the purpose of humanity should probably not be considered to be so much a reflection of their theology or anthropology as a reflection of their society. H. W. F. Saggs notes:
In the Sumerian city-state . . . the characteristic and most significant organisation was the temple-estate, in which thousands of people co-operated in works of irrigation and agriculture in a politico-economic system centred on the temple, with all these people thought of as the servant of the god. The myth of the creation of man, therefore, was not basically a comment on the nature of man but an explanation of a particular social system, heavily dependent upon communal irrigation an agriculture, for which the gods’ estates were primary foci of administration (H. W. F. Saggs, The Encounter With the Divine in Mesopotamia and Israel [Jordan Lectures in Comparative Religion 12; London: University of London, Athlone Press, 1978], 168).
Whether the concept has a social or theological origin, it highlights an important underlying philosophy that presupposed that the gods needed people.
So what can be said about the ideas of origins and creation in Ancient Mesopotamia? First, while there are many differences in the specifics of the myths concerning origins, there are also many points of contact between them. Integral to all of the accounts is the central role played by the gods in the creation of the world and humankind. The creation and the ordering of the cosmos was a natural outcome of the engendering of the gods. Also, the dignity and purpose of humankind is fairly consistent among the texts: humankind was created to serve the gods. Many of the discrepancies between the different myths can easily be attributed to geographical or historical changes (for instance, the changing of the name of a god to suit a specific locality). It needs to be remembered though that while there are many parallels, there are also many differences.
Second, as far as any diachronic development in the ideas about origins and creation, it is hard to recognise any significant differences. Even if one employs Jacobsen’s matrix that older elements will be characterised by intransitivity and the newer elements by transitivity, one would be hard pressed to see any difference in the texts (besides the interplay that Jacobsen already sees in “The Epic of Creation�; see his The Treasures of Darkness: A History of Mesopotamian Religion [New Haven: Yale University Press, 1976], 9ff). One difference between the materials in the two sections is that some of the Neo-Babylonian texts are longer and in better shape, but that has to do with the preservation of texts, not composition or subject matter.
Overall, it must be said that the ideas of origins and creation found in ancient Mesopotamian mythological texts are not crude and unrefined. While they might seem foreign and odd to the modern reader, if an attempt is made to cross the border of “conceptual conditioning,� within their own context and worldview they make sense out of the cosmos and humankind’s place in it.