Aspects of Religious Belief and Practice in Babylonia and Assyria

by Morris Jastrow | 1911 | 121,372 words

More than ten years after publishing his book on Babylonian and Assyrian religion, Morris Jastrow was invited to give a series of lectures. These lectures on the religious beliefs and practices in Babylonia and Assyria included: - Culture and Religion - The Pantheon - Divination - Astrology - The Temples and the Cults - Ethics and Life After Death...

Lecture V - The Temples and the Cults

I

THE modem and occidental view of a temple as a place of worship gives only a part of the picture when we come to regard the sanctuaries of the gods in Babylonia and Assyria. Throughout antiquity, the sanctuary represents, first and foremost, the dwelling of a god. Among the Semites it grows up around the sacred stone, which, originally the god himself, becomes either, in the form of an altar, a symbol of his presence, or is given the outlines of an animal or human figure (or a combination of the two), and becomes a representative of the deity—his counterfeit. Stone, altar, and image are merely phases of the primitive animistic conception. Without differentiating sharply between the various manifestations of life in the universe, primitive man sought to localise the unseen Powers; and, through an instinct, forming part of his meagre equipment at the outset of his strange and miraculous career, he dimly felt that they should be propitiated, since at times he clearly perceived that they controlled his welfare, and apparently intervened at critical moments in his own life, or in that of the group to which he belonged.

The charming legend of Jacob’s dream,[1] devised to account for the sanctity of an ancient centre of worship—Luz,—illustrates this development of the temple, from an ancient and more particularly from a Semitic point of view. The “place”[2] to which Jacob comes is a sacred enclosure formed by stones. His stone pillow is the symbol of the deity, and originally the very deity himself. The god in the stone “reveals” himself, because Jacob by direct contact with the stone becomes, as it were, one with the god, precisely as a sacred relic—an image, or any sacred symbol— communicates a degree of sanctity to him who touches it, whether by kissing it or by pressing against it.[3] When Jacob awakes he realises that Jahweh is the god of the sacred enclosure, which he designates as “the house of the Lord” (Elohim) and “gate of heaven.” He sets up the stone as an altar, anoints it (thus doing homage to the deity represented by the stone,) precisely as one anoints a king or a priest. He changes the name of the sacred place to Bethel, i.e., “house of God,” and declares his intention on his return to his father’s house to convert the stone into a “house of the Lord.” The stone becomes the house, and the sanctuary is the home of the god represented by the stone.

When later on the temple at Jerusalem was built, the name given to it was the “holy house,” and it is commonly spoken of as the “house of Jahweh” in which he was supposed to dwell. “I have built a lofty house for Thee,” says Solomon, “a place for Thy dwelling for all times.”[4] To this day the central sanctuary of Islamism, the Caaba at Mecca, is known as the “house of Allah”; and such is the intimate character of the relation between Allah and his worshippers that the latter regard the mosque not merely as a place for prayer, but as a paternal mansion into which they can wander at any time of the day for rest and recreation. It is not uncommon in the Orient to see a worshipper taking a siesta in a mosque, and even performing his toilet there. The temple thus becomes a home for the worshipper as well as for the deity. In a recent address,[5] Prof. Flinders Petrie has shown that the interior arrangement of an Egyptian temple was planned after the mansions of the nobles, and that the cult in its general features followed the daily routine observed in large households. The room containing the image of the deity was swept and prepared for the day’s duties. A fire was lit, the god washed, anointed, and food was placed before him; thereafter the god was ready to receive his worshippers, just as the grand seigneur receives in the morning the homage of his clients and the visits of the members of his household.

In like manner, the “house” motif prevails in the Babylonian and the Assyrian sanctuaries. Temple and palace adjoin one another in the great centres of the north and south. The temple is the palace of the deity, and the royal palace is the temple of the god’s representative on earth—who as king retains throughout all periods of Babylonian and Assyrian history traces of his original position as the “lieutenant,” or even the embodiment of god—a kind of alter ego of god, the god’s vicegerent on earth.[6] The term which in Babylonian designates more specifically the palace, êkallu, i.e ., “great-house,” becomes in Hebrew, under the form hēkhāl, one of the designations of Jahweh’s sanctuary in Jerusalem. Temple and palace are almost interchangeable terms. Both are essentially houses, and every temple in Babylonia and Assyria bore a name which contained as one of its elements the word “house.”[7] The ruler, embodying, originally, what we should designate as both civil and religious functions, was god, priest, and king in one. We have seen that the kings were in the earlier period often designated as divine beings: they regarded themselves as either directly descended from gods or as “named” by them, i.e., created by them for the office of king. To the latest days they could perform sacrifices—the distinct prerogative of the priests— and among their titles both in ancient and in later days, “priest” is frequently included.[8]

With the differentiation of functions consequent upon political growth and religious advance the service of the god was committed to a special class of persons. Priests from being the attendants of the kings, became part of the religious household of the god. The two households, the civil and the religious, supplemented each other. Over the one presided the ruler, surrounded by a large and constantly growing retinue for whom quarters and provisions had to be found in the palace; at the head of the temple organisation stood the god or goddess, whose sanctuary grew in equal proportion, to accommodate those who were chosen to be servitors. Even the little shrines scattered throughout the Islamic Orient of to-day—commonly fitted up as tombs of saints, but often replacing the site of the dwelling-place of some ancient deity—have a place set aside for the servitor of the god,—the guardian of the sanctuary,—just as a private household has its quarters for the servants. As the temple organisation became enlarged, the apartments for the priests correspondingly increased. Supplementary edifices became necessary to accommodate the stores required for the priests and the cult. The temple grew into a temple-area, which, in the large religious centres, in time assumed the dimensions of an entire sacred quarter.

There is still another aspect of the temples of Babylonia and Assyria. We have already taken note[9] of the tendency to group the chief gods and goddesses and many of the minor ones also around the main deity, in a large centre. A god like Enlil at Nippur, Shamash at Sippar, Ningirsu at Lagash, Sin at Ur, and Marduk at Babylon, is not only served-by a large body of priests, but, again, as in the case of the great ruler who gathers around his court the members of his official family, smaller sanctuaries were erected within the temple area at Nippur to Ninlil, Enlil’s consort, to Ninib, Nusku, Nergal, Ea, Sin, Shamash, Marduk, and others, all in order to emphasise the dominant position of Enlil.[10] It is safe to state that in the zenith of Nippur’s glory all the important gods of the pantheon were represented in the cult at that place. We have a list of no less than thirteen sanctuaries at Lagash,[11] and we may feel certain that they all stood within the sacred area around E-Ninnu, “house of fifty,” which was the name given to Ningirsu’s dwelling at that place. At the close of Babylonian history we find Nebuchadnezzar II. enumerating, among his numerous inscriptions, the shrines and sanctuaries grouped around E-Sagila, “the lofty house,” as Mar-duk’s temple at Babylon was called. His consort Sar-panit, his son Nebo, his father Ea, were represented, as were Sin, Shamash, Adad, Ishtar, Ninib and his consort Gula, Nergal and his consort Laz, and so on through a long list.

There was no attempt made to assimilate the cult of these deities to that of Marduk, despite the tendency to heap upon the latter the attributes of all the gods. The shrines of these gods, bearing the same names as those of their sanctuaries in their own centres of worship,[12] served to maintain the identity of the gods, while as a group around Marduk they illustrated and emphasised the subsidiary position which they occupied. In a measure, this extension of the “house” of a deity into a sacred quarter with dwellings for gods whose actual seat was elsewhere, displaced the original idea connected with a sanctuary, but kings also erected palaces for themselves in various places without endangering either the prestige or the conception of a central dwelling in the capital of the kingdom. The shrines of the gods within the sacred area of E-Sagila represented temporary abodes, or “embassies” as it were, and so it happened that even Marduk had a foreign sanctuary, e.g., at Borsippa to symbolise the close relationship between him and Nebo.

The rulers of Assyria vied with those of the south in beautifying and enlarging the temples of their gods, and in constantly adding new structures; or rebuilding the old which had fallen into decay. The sacred quarter in the old capital at Ashur, and in the later capital at Nineveh, was studded with edifices, and the priests have left us lists[13] of the many gods and goddesses “whose names were invoked,” as the phrase ran, in the temples of the capital.

 

II

With the growth of the temple organisation, its administration also assumed large proportions. The functions of the priests were differentiated, and assigned to several classes—diviners, exorcisers, astrologers, physicians, scribes, and judges of the court, to name only the more important; and as early as the days of Hammurapi, we learn of priestesses attached to the service of Shamash and of other gods. The importance of these priestesses, however, appears to have grown less, as the religion developed. An institution like that of the vestal virgins also existed at an early period, though the material at our disposal is as yet too meagre to enable us to specify the nature of the institution, or the share in the cult allotted to these virgins.

The temple was also the centre of intellectual life. Within the sacred precinct was the temple school in which the aspirants to the priesthood were prepared for their future careers—just as to this day the instruction of the young in Islamism, as well as the discussions of the learned, takes place within the precincts of the mosques. Learning remained under the control of the priests throughout all periods of Babylonian and Assyrian history. In a certain very definite sense all learning was religious in character, or touched religion at some vital point. In the oldest legal code of the Pentateuch, the so-called “Book of the Covenant,” the term used for the exercise of legal functions is “to draw nigh to the Lord” (Elohim), i.e., to appear before God,[14] and this admirably reflects the legal procedure in Babylonia and Assyria. The laws of the country represented the decrees of the gods. Legal decisions were accordingly given through the representatives and servitors of the gods—the kings, in the earlier ages, and later the priests.

At the close of his famous code, Hammurapi, whose proudest title is that of “king of righteousness,” endowed with justice by Shamash—the paramount god of justice and righteousness,—states that one of the aims of his life was to restrain the strong from oppressing the weak, and to procure justice for the orphan and the widow. He appropriately deposits in E-Sagila, the temple of Marduk in Babylon, the stone on which he had inscribed the laws of the country “for rendering decisions, for decreeing judgments in the land, for the righting of wrongs.” The ultimate source of all law being the deity himself, the original legal tribunal was the place where the image or symbol of the god stood. A legal decision was an oracle or omen, indicative of the will of the god. The Hebrew word for law, toralfi , has its equivalent in the Babylonian ter tu, which is the common term for “omen.”[15] This indissoluble bond between law and religion was symbolised by retaining the tribunal, at all times, within the temple area and by placing the dispensing of justice in the hands of the priests—a condition that is also characteristic of legal procedure in all the Pentateuchal codes, including the latest, the so-called Priestly Code.

The power thus lodged in the priests of Babylonia and Assyria was enormous. They virtually held in their hands the life and death of the people, and while the respect for authority, the foundation of all government, was profoundly increased by committing the functions of the judges to the servitors of the gods, yet the theory upon which the dispensation of justice rested, though a logical outcome of the prevailing religious beliefs, was fraught with grave dangers. A single unjust decision was sufficient to shake the confidence not merely in the judge but in the god whose mouthpiece he was supposed to be. An error on the part of a judge demonstrated, at all events, that the god no longer cherished him; he had forfeited the god’s assistance. Accordingly, one of the first provisions in the Hammurapi code[16] ordains that a judge who renders a false decision is to be removed from office. There was no court of appeal in those days; nor any need of one, under the prevailing acceptance of legal decisions. The existence of this provision may be taken as an indication that the incident was not infrequent. On the other hand, the thousands of legal documents that we now have from almost all periods of Babylonian-Assyrian history furnish eloquent testimony to the scrupulous care with which the priests, as judges, sifted the evidence brought before them, and rendered their decisions in accordance with this evidence.

The temples were the natural depositories of the legal archives, which in the course of centuries grew to veritably enormous proportions. Records were made of all decisions; the facts were set forth, and duly attested by witnesses. Business and marriage contracts, loans and deeds of sale were in like manner drawn up in the presence of official scribes, who were also priests. In this way all commercial transactions received the written sanction of the religious organisation. The temples themselves—at least in the large centres—entered into business relations with the populace. In order to maintain the large household represented by such an organisation as that of the temple of Enlil at Nippur, that of Ningirsu at Lagash, that of Marduk at Babylon, or that of Shamash at Sippar, large holdings of land were required which, cultivated by agents for the priests, or farmed out with stipulations for a goodly share of the produce, secured an income for the maintenance of the temple officials. The enterprise of the temples was expanded to the furnishing of loans at interest—in later periods, at 20%— to barter in slaves, to dealings in lands, besides engaging labour for work of all kinds directly needed for the temples.

A large quantity of the business documents found in the temple archives are concerned with the business affairs of the temple, and we are justified in including the temples in the large centres as among the most important business institutions of the country.[17] In financial or monetary transactions the position of the temples was not unlike that of national banks; they carried on their business with all the added weight of official authority. The legal and business functions thus attached to the temple organisations enlarged also the scope of the training given in the temple-schools. To instruction in methods of divination, in the rituals connected with exorcising demons and in other forms of incantations, in sacrificial and atonement rituals, in astrology, and in the treatment of diseases as supplementary to incantation rites, there was added training in the drawing up of legal documents, in the study of the laws, and in accounting, including calculations of interest and the like.[18]

It is to the temple-schools that we owe the intellectual activity of Babylonia and Assyria. The incentive to gather collections of omens, of incantations, and, of medical compilations, came from these schools. Though the motive was purely practical, viz., to furnish handbooks for the priests and to train young candidates for the priesthood, nevertheless the incentive was intellectual both in character and scope, and necessarily resulted in raising the standard of the priesthood and in stimulating the literary spirit. The popular myths and legends were given a literary form, and preserved in the archives of the temple-schools. An interest in fables was aroused, and the wisdom of the past preserved for future generations. Texts of various kinds were prepared for the schools. Hymns, rituals, incantations, omens, and medical treatises were edited and provided with commentaries or with glasses, and explanatory amplifications, to serve as text-books for the pupils and as guides for the teachers. For the study of the language, lists of signs with their values as phonetic symbols, and their meanings when used as ideographs were prepared. Lists of all kinds of objects were drawn up, names of countries and rivers, tables of verbal forms, with all kinds of practical exercises in combining nouns and verbs, and in forming little sentences.

The practical purpose served by many of these exercises is shown by the character of the words and phrases chosen—they are such as occur in legal documents, or in omens, or in other species of religious texts used in the cult. Many of these school texts, including the collections of omens and incantations as well as hymns and rituals, were originally written in a “Sumerian” version, though emanating from priests who spoke Babylonian. It was found necessary to translate, or to “transliterate,” them into the Semitic Babylonian. We thus obtain many bilingual texts furnishing both the Semitic and the Sumerian versions. A large proportion of the literary texts in Ashurbana-pal’s library thus turn out to be school texts, and since we know that the scribes of Ashurbanapal prepared their copies from originals produced in Babylonia,—though Assyria also contributed her share towards literary productions,—the conclusion seems justified that it was through the temple-schools and for the temple-schools that the literature, which is almost wholly religious in character, or touches religion at some point, was produced.

It will be apparent, therefore, that the temples of Babylonia and Assyria served a variety of purposes, besides being merely places of worship. They formed —to emphasise the point once more—the large religious households of the country, harbouring large bodies of priests for whose sustenance provision had to be made, superintending all the details of the administration of large holdings, exercising the functions of legal courts, acting as the depositories of official records—legal and historical,—besides engaging in the activities of business corporations and of training institutions in all the branches of intellectual activity that centred around the religious beliefs and the cult. It was through the temples, in short, that the bond between culture and religion, which was set forth in a previous lecture, was maintained during all periods of Babylonian and Assyrian history.

 

III

The present ruined condition of the temples of Babylonia and Assyria makes it difficult to obtain an accurate idea of their construction; and a note of warning must be sounded against reconstructions, made on the basis of earlier excavations, which are, in almost all respects, purely fanciful. Thanks, however, to the careful work done by the German expedition at Ashur—the old capital of Assyria[19]—our knowledge of details has been considerably extended; and since the religious architecture of Assyria by the force of tradition follows Babylonian models, except in the more liberal use of stone instead of bricks, the results of the excavations and investigations of the temple constructions of Ashur may be regarded as typical for Babylonian edifices as well.

The “house” motif , which, we have seen, dominated the construction of temples, led to the setting apart of a special room to receive the image of the deity for whom the edifice was erected as a dwelling-place. The private quarters of the deity constituted the “holy of holies,” and this was naturally placed in the remotest part of the edifice. To this room, known as “the sacred chamber,” only the priests and kings had access; they alone might venture into the presence of the deity. It was separated from the rest of the building by an enclosure which marked the boundary between the “holy of holies” and the long hall or court where the worshippers assembled. Outside of this court there was a second one, in which, presumably, the business affairs of the temple were conducted. Grouped around these two courts were the apartments of the priests, the school, and the archive rooms, as well as the quarters for the temple stores. In the case of the larger centres, we must furthermore suppose many special buildings for the various needs of the religious household, stalls for the animals, workshops and booths for the manufacture of temple utensils, fabrics, and votive offerings, quarters for the tribunals, offices of the notaries, and the like.

A feature of the temple area in the large centres was a brick tower, formed by from two to seven superimposed stages, which stood near the temple proper. These towers were known as zikkurats —a term that has the sense of “high” places. Elaborate remains of the zikkurats at Nippur and at Ashur have been unearthed, and these together with the famous one at Borsippa, still towering above the mounds at that place, and currently believed among the natives to be the traditional tower of Babel, enable us to form a tolerably accurate idea of their construction. Huge and ungainly quadrangular masses of bricks, placed one above the other in stories diminishing in the square mass as they proceed upwards, these towers attained the height of about one hundred feet and at times more.[20] The character of such a sacred edifice differs so entirely from the Babylonian temple proper, that, in order to account for its presence in Nippur, Lagash,Ur, Sippar, Larsa, Babylon, Borsippa, Ashur, Nineveh, and other places, we must perforce assume a second motif by the side of the “house” scheme of a temple. The height of these towers, as well as the diminishing mass of the stones, with a winding balustrade, or a direct ascent from one stage to the other up to the top, at once recalls the picture of a mountain.

The semblance suggests that the motif must have originated with a people dwelling in a mountainous country, who placed the seats of their gods on the mountain-tops, as was so generally done by ancient peoples. The gods who are thus localised, however, are generally storm gods like Jahweh, who dwells on the top of Mt. Sinai—or according to another view on Mt. Seir,—or like Zeus on Mt. Olympus. The gods whose manifestations appear in the heavens—in the storm, in the thunder, and in the lightning—would naturally have their seats on high mountains whose tops, so frequently enveloped in clouds, would be regarded as forming a part of heaven.[21] If this supposition be correct, we should furthermore be obliged to assume that the “mountain” motif was brought to the mountainless region of the Euphrates by a people entering the valley from some mountainous district.

Since the zikkurats can be traced back to the Sumerian period (we find them in Gudea’s times and during the Sumerian dynasties of Ur), their introduction must be credited to the Sumerians, or to an equally ancient section of the population. We have seen that it is not possible to affirm positively that non-Semitic settlers were the earliest inhabitants of the Euphrates Valley; but the circumstance that where we find zikkurats in Semitic settlements (such as the minarets attached to the Mohammedan mosques), they can be traced back, as we shall presently see, to Babylonian prototypes, furnishes a strong presumption in favour of ascribing the “mountain” motif to Sumerian influence.

It is not without significance that the temple at Nippur, which is certainly a Sumerian settlement, and one of the oldest, bore the name E-Kur, “mountain-house,” and that Enlil, the chief deity of Nippur, bears the indications of a storm-god,[22] whose dwelling should, probably, therefore, be on a mountain. Herodotus[23] is authority for the statement that there was a small shrine at the top of the zikkurat , in which there was a statue of the god in whose honour the tower was built. This shrine, therefore, represented the dwelling of the god, and corresponded to the sacred chamber in the temple proper. To ascend the zikkurat would thus be equivalent to paying a visit to the god; and we have every reason to believe that the ascent of the zikkurat formed a part of the ceremonies connected with the cult, just as the Jewish pilgrims ascended Mt. Zion at Jerusalem to pay their homage to Jahweh, who was there enshrined after the people had moved away from Mt. Sinai and Mt. Seir.[24]

There is no reason to assume that these towers were ever used for astronomical purposes, as has been frequently asserted. Had this been the case, we should long ere this have found reference to the fact in some inscription. References to an observatory for the study of the heavens, known as the bit tamarti, i.e., “house of observation,” are not infrequent, blit nowhere is there any indication that the zikkurats were used for that purpose. They must have been regarded as too sacred to be frequently visited, even by the priests. Access to them was rather complicated, and for observations needed for astrological divination a high eminence was not required. Still more groundless, and hardly worthy of serious consideration is the supposition that it was customary to bury the dead at the base of the zikkurat , which in this case would be a Babylonian equivalent of the Egyptian pyramid, namely, as the tomb of monarchs and of grand personages.

On the other hand, the imitation of a mountain suggested a further symbolism in the zikkurats, which reveals itself in the names given to some of them. While no special stress seems, at any time, to have been laid on the number of stories or stages of which a zikkurat consisted, the chief aim of the builders being the construction of a high mass, seven stages seems to have become the normal number, after a certain period. There seems to be no reason to doubt that this number was chosen to correspond to the moon, sun, and five planets, which we have seen were the controlling factors in the Babylonian-Assyrian astrology. Gudea describes the zikkurat at Lagash known as E-Pa as the “house of the seven divisions”[25]; and from the still fuller designation of the tower at Borsippa as the “seven divisions of heaven and earth,” it would appear that in both cases there is a symbolical reference to the “seven planets,” as the moon, sun, and five planets were termed by the Babylonians themselves.[26]

Less probable is the interpretation of the name of the tower at Uruk as the “seven enclosures” (or possibly “groves”) as applying likewise to the seven planets, though to speak of the moon, sun, and five planets as “enclosures” would be a perfectly intelligible metaphor. That the symbolism of the zikkurats was carried any further, however, and each stage identified with one of the planets, may well be doubted, nor is it at all likely that the bricks of each stage had a different colour, corresponding to colours symbolically associated with the planets. Even if seven different colours were used in the construction, there is no evidence thus far that these colours were connected with the planets.[27]

Moreover, a valuable hint of one of the fundamental ideas associated with the zikkurat is to be found in the name given to the one at Larsa:

“the house of the link of heaven and earth.”

Attention has already been called to the fact[28] that the heavens, according to the prevailing view of antiquity, were not elevated very far above the earth. The tops of the mountains were regarded as reaching into heaven,—in fact as belonging to the heavens. The zikkurat , therefore, as the imitation of the mountain, might well be called the “link” uniting earth to heaven. The name is of interest because of the light which it throws on the famous tale in Genesis (chap. xi.) of the building of the tower. To the Hebrew writers, particularly those who wrote under the influence of the religious ideals of the prophets, the ambitious aims of the great powers of antiquity—conquest, riches, large armies, brilliant courts, the pomp of royalty, and indulgence in luxury—were exceedingly distasteful. Their ideal was the agricultural life in small communities governed by a group of elders, and with the populace engaged in tilling the soil and in raising flocks,— living peacefully under the shade of the fig tree. In the view of these writers, even such a work as the temple of Solomon, built by foreign hands, in imitation of the grand structures of other nations, was not pleasing in the eyes of Jahweh, whose preference was for a simple tabernacle, built of wood without the use of hewn stones and iron,—both of which represented innovations.

These writers were what we should call “old-fashioned,”—advocates of the simple life.[29] They abominated, therefore, the large religious households of the Babylonians and Assyrians and particularly the high towers which were the “skyscrapers” of antiquity.[30] The narrative of the tower of Babel is told as a protest against such ambitious efforts, but the interesting feature of the narrative for us is, that it correctly interprets the purpose of these towers as aiming to reach up to heaven. The name of the zikkurat of Larsa well illustrates this aim—to serve as a “link,” uniting heaven and earth. To the pious Hebrew writer such an undertaking seemed ungodly. He does not regard the task as impossible, but impious,—a wanton insult to Providence. He, therefore, represents Jahweh as intervening to prevent the plan from being carried out. The simple-hearted story, in picturing Jahweh as coming down to see what his creatures were doing, reveals its origin as a genuine folk-tale, and probably an old one, which a later writer, in sympathy with the opposition of primitive folk to the bolder ambitions of an advanced culture, adopts to emphasise the ungodliness of Babylonia, which represented just the things which the prophets opposed with such vehemence.

The “ladder” which Jacob saw in his dream reaching from earth to heaven was likewise suggested by the zikkurat. The “ladder” is pictured as a link uniting earth to heaven, and the term used in the narrative might just as well be rendered “tower.”[31]

 

IV

Tower and temple remain, through all periods of Babylonian-Assyrian history, the types of religious architecture and survive the fall of both countries. The survival of religious traditions, despite radical changes in outward forms, is illustrated by the adoption of the zikkurat by Islamism. At Samarra, about sixty miles above Bagdad, there survives to this day an almost perfect type of a Babylonian zikkurat, as a part of a Mohammedan mosque.[32] Built about the middle of the ninth century of our era, and rising to a height of about one hundred and seventy feet, it has a winding ascent to the top, where in place of the sacred shrine for the god is the platform from which the muezzin calls the faithful to prayer. The god has been replaced by his servitor, and instead of the address belu rabū (“great lord”) with which it was customary to approach the deities of old, Allah akbar (“Allah is great”) is heard from the minarets [33]—which, as will have become evident, are merely modified zikkurats. Arabic writers themselves trace the custom of building a minaret at the side of a mosque, or as an integral part of the sacred structure, to the zikkurat at Samarra; and the chain of evidence has recently been completed to show that the steeples of our modern churches are a further step in the evolution of the zikkurat,[35]

In Babylonia and Assyria, temple and tower, once entirely distinct, show a tendency to unite. In the city of Ashur, the oldest temple, or rather double temple, dedicated to Anu and Adad,[34] has a zikkurat on either side, each being directly attached to the respective temple or “house” of the deity. Elsewhere—as at Nippur—the zikkurat is close behind the temple, but even when adjacent the zikkurat remains an independent structure, and it is interesting to note that in the traditional forms of Christian architecture, the church tower retains this independent character. In Catholic countries where traditions are closely followed, it is provided that though the tower should be a part of the church, there must be no direct access from the one to the other.[36]

The opposition of the Hebrews to the allurements of Babylonian-Assyrian civilisation was strong enough to check the introduction of zikkurats into Palestine, but it could not prevent the imitation of the Assyrian temple in the days of Solomon. The type of religious edifice erected by this grand monarque of the Hebrews followed even in details the Assyrian model with its threefold division, the broad outer court, the oblong narrow inner court, and the “holy of holies,”[37] where in place of the statue of the deity was the sacred box (or “Ark”) with the Cherubim over it as the symbol of Jahweh.

The history of the Babylonian and Assyrian temples and their zikkarats furnishes an index to the religious fervour of the rulers. The records left by rulers of the oldest period are in the main votive inscriptions, indicative of their activity in building or rebuilding religious edifices. Conquerors, like Sargon and Ham-murapi, are proud of the title of “builder” of this or that temple; and their example is followed by the war-lords of Assyria, who interrupt the narration of their military exploits by detailed accounts of their pious labours in connection with the great sanctuaries of the country. Taking the temples at Nippur, Sip-par, Babylon, and Ashur as typical examples, we find a long chain of rulers leaving records of their building activities in these centres. Kings of Kish, Uruk, Ur, and Agade vie with the rulers of Babylon and Nineveh in paying homage to the “mountain house” at Nippur, repairing the decayed portions, extending its dimensions, and adding to the mass of its zikkurat. They dedicate the spoils of war to Enlil and deposit votive offerings in his shrine. From Sargon of Agade to Ashurbanapal of Nineveh, E-Kur continued to be a place of pilgrimage whither the rulers went to acknowledge the authority of Enlil, and of his consort Ninlil. Long indeed after the tutelary deity of the city had been forgotten, the city retained its odour of sanctity, and the temple area became a burial-place for Jews and Christians, who bear witness to the persistence of time-worn beliefs by inscribing in Aramaic dialects on clay bowls incantations against the demons of ancient Babylonia, belief in whose power to inflict injury on the dead had not yet evaporated in the sixth and seventh centuries of our era.[38]

The last king of Babylonia, Nabonnedos (555-539 B.C.), who aroused the hostility of Marduk and the priests of Esagila by his preference for the sun-god,[39] gives us, in connection with his restoration of the temple of Shamash at Sippar, the history of that time-honoured sanctuary. As an act of piety to the memory of past builders, it became an established duty in Babylonia to unearth the old foundation stone of a temple before the work of restoration could be begun. On that stone the name of the builder was inscribed, generally with a curse on him who removed it or substituted his name for the one there written. After many efforts the workmen of Na-bonnedos succeeded in finding the stone, and the king tells us how he trembled with excitement and awe when he read on it the name of Naram-Sin. Incidentally, he gives us the date of Naram-Sin, who, he says, ruled 3200 years before him. It is one of the many great triumphs of modern investigation that we can actually correct the scribes of Naram-Sin, who made a mistake of over 1000 years.

[40] Nabonnedos mentions also the names of Hammurapi and Burna-buriash as among those who, many centuries before him, repaired this ancient edifice, after, it had fallen into decay through lapse of ages. Toward the end of the Cassite dynasty (ca . 1200 B.C.) nomadic hordes devastated the country, and the cult suffered a long interruption, but E-Barra was restored to much of its former grandeur by Nebopaliddin in the ninth century, and from this time down to the time of Nabonnedos, it continued to be an object of great care on the part of both Assyrian and Babylonian kings. Esarhaddon, Ashurbanapal, Nabopolassar, and Nebuchadnezzar are among those who during this later period left records of their activity at E-Barra, the “house of splendour” at Sippar.

 

V

It is now incumbent on us to turn to the cult fostered at these sanctuaries in the south and the north. At the outset of this discussion it must be acknowledged that many of the details are still lost. We have, to be sure, in the library of Ashurbanapal the material for a reconstruction of the cult at the great centres, through the collection which this king made of hymns and incantations, omens and rituals, that formed part of the temple archives and of the equipment of the temple-schools at Nippur, Ur, Sippar, Babylon, Borsippa, Cuthah, Uruk, and no doubt, at many other places, though the bulk of the material appears to have come from two temples, E-Sagila at Babylon and E-Zida in Borsippa.[41] This material is, however, in an almost bewildering state of confusion, and many investigations of special features will have to be made before it can be arranged in such a manner as to give a connected picture of the general cult. Fortunately, we have also, as supplementary to this material, original texts, belonging to the oldest period,—chiefly hymns, litanies, and lamentations,—which written in Sumerian, have recently been carefully studied and are now pretty well understood.[42]

The omen texts, including the omens of liver divinations, the astrological collections, and the miscellaneous classes of omens, may be excluded from the cult proper. Interpretations of omens, at all events, do not form an integral part of the official cult at the temples, despite the fact that they are concerned chiefly with public affairs or with those of the royal households, which, as repeatedly emphasised,[43] have an official or semi-official rather than a personal character. They might be designated as religious rites, subsidiary to the official cult. In connection with the inspection of the liver of the sacrificial animal there was an invocation to Shamash, or to Shamash and Adad, combined; we have specimens of such appeals, dating from Assyrian days, in which the sun-god is invoked to answer questions through the medium of trustworthy omens, and implored to prevent any error in the rites about to be performed which would naturally vitiate them.[44] There were, however, no fixed occasions for the consultations of livers. Whenever any necessity arose, as before a battle or previous to some important public undertaking, or in case of illness or some accident to the king or to a member of his immediate household, hepatoscopy was employed to determine the attitude of the gods toward the land or toward the royal household. Similarly, as we have seen, the observation of the heavenly bodies formed the perpetual concern of the bdru priests. Astrological reports were frequently sent to the rulers, always at new-moon and full-moon, and in the case of eclipse or obscurations of the moon’s or sun’s surface from any cause whatsoever.

In cases where the signs of the heavens portended evil, expiatory rites were prescribed,[45] and these being conducted in the temples, no doubt formed part of the official expiatory ritual. The ritual on these occasions is, however, independent of the observation of the heavenly bodies, and follows as an attachment to the omens derived from the observation. Finally, the miscellaneous collections of omens, are merely to be regarded as handbooks to guide the bdrū priests in answering questions that might be put to them concerning any unusual or striking appearance among men or animals, or in nature in general. Every unusual happening being regarded as a sign from some god or goddess, it became the priest’s business to determine its import. Although he did this in his official capacity, the act of securing and furnishing the interpretation formed no part of the ritual; and the omens, even in these instances, frequently bore on the public welfare rather than on the fate or fortune of the individual. Such interpellations and decisions might be compared to the inquiries regarding ritualistic observances put to the Jewish Rabbis from Talmudic times down to our days in orthodox circles, which gave rise to an extensive branch of Rabbinical literature technically known as “Questions and Answers.”[46]

An intermediate position between the official and the extra-official cult is held by the incantation formulas, and the observances connected therewith. In this branch of religious literature the layman received a large share of attention—larger even than in the case of the miscellaneous omens dealing with occurrences in daily life. In so far as the incantations represent the practices supplementary to medicinal treatment to release individuals from the tortures of the demons, or from the control of the sorcerers, they partake of the nature of private rites, which, although observed under the guidance and superintendence of priests, can be regarded only in a limited sense as forming part of the official cult.

Nevertheless, we must be careful not to draw the dividing line between public and private rites too sharply. Even incantations, when performed for individuals, have their official side; for the ritual accompanying them is derived from the observances prescribed more particularly for the rulers on occasions of public misfortune. At such times the endeavour was made to appease the gods through the chanting of lamentations, through confession of guilt, and through expiatory sacrifices and atonement ceremonies. The incantations themselves abound in references to the public welfare. The technical term shiptu (“incantation”), by which they are known, is extended to hymns—a valuable indication that the hymnal literature is an outgrowth from incantations, and that the primary purpose of these hymns was neither praise, thanksgiving, nor tribute, but the reconciliation of the gods, who had shown their displeasure in some manner, or had sent advance signals of an impending catastrophe.

Dr. Langdon[47] believes he has found evidence that the incantation rites were originally performed over afflicted persons in huts erected preferably on the bank of a flowing stream, and that therefore at this stage of their development they formed no part of the official cult of the temples. On the basis of this evidence he distinguishes between public and private services, and assigns incantations and prayers, designated as shiptu , to the private service. Without entering into a detailed examination of this theory here, but even accepting its full force, it would prove only that the Babylonian religion contains survivals of the early period when magic—in its widest sense —formed the chief element in the religion; or (according to those scholars, who like Mr. J. G. Frazer,[48] separate magic from religion) of that period when magic held sway to the exclusion of religion. At all events, the incantation rites, whatever their original character, were taken over into the official cult—as Langdon also admits—and this fact carries with it, I think, the conclusion that the ashipu , as the “magician” or exorciser was generally called, was a member of the priestly organisation. Even the early examples of incantations at hand reveal their official character by the introduction of such terms for the various classes of incantations as “house of light,” “house of washing,” and “house of baptism,”[49] and show that we are long past the stage when magic was, if ever, an extra-official rite.

We are justified, however, in drawing the conclusion that the incantation rituals—including under this term both the collection of the magic formulas and the rites to be performed in connection with them — represent a link between the more primitive features of the Babylonian religion, and those elements which reflect the later period of an organised and highly specialised priesthood, with a correspondingly elaborate organisation of the cult. To dogmatise about the phases of that cult, and to declare the incantation ritual to be the oldest division is hazardous, especially in the present state of our knowledge, but, I think, it is safe to say that the beliefs and practices found in this ritual bring us close to the earliest aspects of the popular religion.

 

VI

It is difficult to suppose that the jumble of often meaningless formulas in the incantation texts, with their accompaniment of rites, originating in the lowest kind of sympathetic and imitative magic, should have been evolved by the same priests who added to these earlier elements, and frequently overshadowed them by ethical reflections, emphasising high standards of ethics; they also attached to them prayers that breathe a comparatively lofty religious spirit.

But not always. For instance, here is one where there are almost childish invocations to the evil spirits to leave the body of their victim:[50]

Away, away, far away, far away!
For shame, for shame, fly away, fly away!
Round about face, away, far away!
Out of my body away!
Out of my body far away!
Out of my body, for shame!
Out of my body, fly away!
Out of my body, face about!
Out of my body, go away!
Into my body do not return!
To my body do not approach!
My body do not oppress!
By Shamash, the mighty, be ye exorcised!
By Ea, the lord of all, be ye exorcised!
By Marduk, the chief exorciser of the gods, be ye exorcised!
By Gish-Bar,[51] your consumer, be ye exorcised!
Be ye restrained from my body!

But in the midst of these we find introduced prayers to various deities of which the following, addressed to the fire-god, may serve as an example:

O Nusku,[52] great god, counsellor of the great gods,
Guardian of the offerings of all the Igigi,[53]
Founder of cities, renewer of sanctuaries,
Glorious day,[54] of supreme command,
Messenger of Anu,[55] obedient to the oracle of Enlil,
Obedient to Enlil, the counsellor, the mountain[56] of the Igigi.
Mighty in battle, of powerful attack,
O, Nusku, consumer, overpowering the enemy,
Without thee no table is spread in the temple,[57]
Without thee the great gods do not inhale the incense,
Without thee, Shamash, the judge executes no judgment.[58]

The hymn glides almost imperceptibly into an appeal to burn the sorcerer and sorceress:

I turn to thee, I implore thee, I raise my hands to thee, I sink down at thy feet,
Bum the sorcerer and the witch!
Blast the life of the dreaded sorcerer and the witch!
Let me live that I may make thy heart glad, and humbly pay homage to thee.

Both the incantation formulas and the impressive prayers assume, as an accompanying rite, the burning of an image, or of some symbol of the witch or sorcerer.[59] This is done, in the firm belief that the symbolical destruction will be followed by a genuine release from their grasp. And yet it is evident that the incantation texts and incantation rituals represent a composite production, receiving their final shape as the result of the collaboration of many hands. Primitive and popular elements were combined with doctrines and practices which, developed in the schools of theological speculation, furnished an outlet for the intellectual and spiritual activity of those to whom, as the special servitors of the gods and as the mediators between the gods and the populace, the unfolding of the religious life of the country was entrusted.

The influence of the religious theories elaborated by the priests is to be seen in the prominence given to the idea of purification throughout the incantation rituals. The idea itself, to be sure, belongs to the primitive notion of taboo , which specifies an “unclean” condition, due to contact with something either too sacred or too profane to be touched, but the application of the taboo to all circumstances for which incantation rites are required takes us beyond the well-defined limits of primitive conceptions. Under the influence of the purification scheme, the primitive rites of sympathetic magic receive a new and higher interpretation. They become symbolical ceremonies, intended to emphasise the single aim of one who has fallen under the spell of evil spirits to cleanse himself from the sickness, or the misfortune, whatever its nature, that has been brought upon him.[60]

I have washed my hands, I have cleansed my body, [61]
With the pure spring-water which flows forth in the city of Eridu.
All that is evil, all that is not good,
Which is in my body, my flesh, and my sinews,
The evil dream at night, the evil signs and omens that are not good.

Instead of the common exorcisers—medicine-men and lay magic-workers,—we find the officials of the temple combining with the primitive rites an appeal to the gods, particularly Ea, Marduk, Nusku (or Girru), Shamash, Adad, and the Anunnaki.[62] Disease becomes, under this aspect of higher purification, the punishment for sins committed against the gods, and, gradually, the entire incantation ritual assumes the colour of an expiatory ceremony.

An occasion is thus found for the introduction of the ethical spirit, the desire to become reconciled with the gods by leading a pure and clean life—corresponding to the material cleanliness, which the suppliant hopes to attain by the incantation rites. Hence, in the midst of a collection of incantation formulas, based on the most primitive kind of sympathetic magic, we meet not merely prayers to gods that represent a far higher grade of thought, but also ethical considerations, embodied in the enumeration of a long category of possible sins that the suppliant for divine forgiveness may have committed. The question is asked why punishment in the shape of bodily tortures was sent, and incidental thereto the Biblical ten commandments are paralleled.[63]

Has he estranged father from son?
Has he estranged son from father?
Has he estranged mother from daughter?
Has he estranged daughter from mother?
Has he estranged mother-in-law from daughter-in-law?
Has he estranged daughter-in-law from mother-in-law?
Has he estranged brother from brother?
Has he estranged friend from friend?
Has he estranged companion from companion?[64]
Has he not released a prisoner, has he not loosened the bound one ?
Has he not permitted the prisoner to see the light?
Has he in the case of the captive, commanded, “take hold of him,” in the case of one bound (said), “bind him!”[65]
Is it a sin against a god, a transgression against a goddess ?
Has he offended a god, neglected a goddess?
Was his sin against his god, was his wrong toward his goddess?
An offence against his ancestor,[66] [?] hatred toward his elder brother?
Has he neglected father or mother, insulted the elder sister?
Given too little, refused the larger amount ?[67]
For “no” said “yes,” for “yes” said “no”?
Has he used false weights ?
Has he taken the wrong sum, not taken the correct amount?[68]
Has he disinherited the legitimate son, has he upheld an illegitimate son?
Has he drawn a false boundary, not drawn the right boundary?
Has he removed the limit, mark, or boundary?
Has he possessed himself[69] of his neighbour’s house?
Has he shed his neighbour’s blood?
Has he stolen his neighbour’s garment?
Has he not released a freedman [?] out of his family?
Has he divided a family once united?
Has he set himself up against a superior?
Was his mouth frank, but his heart false?
Was it “yes” with his mouth, but “no” with his heart?
.           .           .          .          .          .          .          .
Has he taught what was impure, instructed in what was not proper?
Did he follow the path of evil?
Did he overstep the bounds of what was just?

In contrast with this high plane, which is, however, not infrequently reached in the incantation rituals, the accompanying ceremonies remain persistently on the same level which we find in primitive religions everywhere. Nor will it escape the attention of the careful student that the possible sins enumerated pass indiscriminately from ritualistic errors to moral offences. Nevertheless, and with due regard for the obvious limitation of the ethical principles introduced, the wide departure from the starting-point of incantation formulas must be given full recognition. One cannot question that in this strikingly modified and advanced form, even though the rites themselves continued to rest on an essentially primitive basis, the incantation cult exercised an elevating influence and, at all events, acted as a moral restraint.

The evil spirits, supposed to cause sickness and other ills, were of various kinds, and each class appears to have had its special function. Some clearly represent the shades of the departed,[70] who return to earth to plague the living; others are personifications of certain diseases. The existence of special demons for consumption (or wasting disease), fever, ague, and headache forms a curious parallel to specialisation in the practice of modem medicine. There was even a “gynecological” demon, known as Labartu, whose special function it was to attack women in childbirth, and steal the offspring. Other demons appear to have been associated chiefly with the terrors of the storm, or with the night, while some seem to have been of a general character or, if they had a special function, it has not as yet been discovered. Their general dwelling place was in the nether world—the domain of Nergal, the god of pestilence and death. The names given to these demons, such as “pestilence,” the “seizer,” the “one lying in wait,” “destroyer,” “storm,” illustrate the uncompromisingly forbidding and gloomy views held of them, which is even further emphasised by the terrifying shapes given to them—leopards, dragons, serpents, etc. Not confined solely to the nether world, their presence was also seen in the angry clouds that rolled across the heavens, their voice was heard in the storms that swept over the land.

They come up from their habitation and conceal themselves in dark holes and unsuspected crannies, ready to pounce upon their victims unawares. In short, like the modern “germs” of which they are the remote prototypes, they are universal and everywhere.

They move preferably in groups of seven[71]:

Destructive storms and evil winds are they,
A storm of evil, presaging the baneful storm,
A storm of evil, forerunner of the baneful storm.
Mighty children, mighty sons are they,
Messengers of Namtar are they,
Throne-bearers of Ereshkigal.[72]
The flood driving through the land are they.
Seven gods of the wide heavens,
Seven gods of the broad earth,
Seven robber gods are they.
Seven gods of universal sway,
Seven evil gods,
Seven evil demons,
Seven evil and violent demons,
Seven in heaven, seven on earth.

Another incantation thus describes them[73]:

Neither male nor female are they.
Destructive whirlwinds they,
Having neither wife nor offspring.
Compassion and mercy they do not know.
Prayer and supplication they do not hear.
Horses reared in the mountains, Hostile to Ea.
Throne-bearers of the gods are they.
Standing on the highway, befouling the street.
Evil are they, evil are they,
Seven they are, seven they are, Twice seven they are.

Or again, in illustration of their ability to penetrate everywhere[74]:

The high enclosures, the broad enclosures like a flood they pass through.
From house to house they dash along.
No door can shut them out,
No bolt can turn them back.
Through the door, like a snake, they glide,
Through the hinge, like the wind, they storm.
Tearing the wife from the embrace of the man,
Snatching the child from the knees of a man,[75]
Driving the freedman from his family home.

Such are the demons against whom man had continually to be on his guard.

 

VII

To summarise the incantation cult, it will be sufficient to indicate that, while, as we have seen, many gods are appealed to, the most important share in the rites is taken by water and fire—suggesting, therefore, that the god of water—more particularly Ea —and the god of fire—appearing under various designations, Nusku, Girru, Gish-Bar—are the chief deities on which the ritual itself hinges. Water and fire are viewed as the two purifying elements above all others. The “unclean” person was sprinkled with water, while the priest pronounced certain sacred formulas, having the power of “cleansing” a patient from sickness. The water was of course specially sanctified for this purpose, drawn from springs or sacred streams, as both the Euphrates and the Tigris rivers were regarded. There was probably connected with every large temple one or more springs, and a bit rimki or "bath-house”[76] where the purification rites were performed, although this house was no doubt originally outside of the temple area in a field or some remote place.

We are reminded of the “bath-house” to this day attached to synagogues of the rigid orthodox type, whereto the women resort monthly to cleanse themselves.[77] It is tempting to discern in this rite, now restricted to women, who represent everywhere the conservative element in religion, a survival of the old Babylonian purification ritual. Instead of water, oil of various kinds was also used. Details of the rites no doubt varied in different cities, and there are indications that the purification rites were, even in later times, occasionally performed on the banks of running streams—perhaps a survival of the period when the incantation ritual did not yet form part of the official cult.

By the side of the “bath-house,” we meet frequent references to a bitnuri, “house of light,” and it is permissible to recognise in this term the designation of a special place within the temple area, wherein the purification by fire was completed.

Originally, no doubt, fire was used as a means of directly destroying the demons in human form—the sorcerers and witches—who, either of their own initiative, or at the instigation of those who had invoked their aid, had cast a spell upon the victims. A favourite method employed by the exorcisers of these demons was to make images of them, modelled in clay, pitch, tallow, dough, or other materials,[78] that could be melted or destroyed by fire, and then to throw the images into the fire to the accompaniment of formulas which generally expressed the hope that, as the images were consumed, the sorcerers and witches might feel the tortures of the flames, and either flee out of the bodies of their victims, or release their hold upon them. Parallels to this procedure, resting entirely on sympathetic magic, are to be found in abundance among peoples of primitive culture.[79]

There was, however, another aspect of fire. As the sacred god-given element, the flame was associated with purity, and it became in many religions —notably in Zoroastrianism—a symbol of life itself. Through contact with it, therefore, freedom from contamination was secured. The true meaning of the practices of the Canaanites, who, as we are told, caused their children to “pass through the fire”[80] (which seemed so abhorrent to the Hebrew prophets), was a desire thoroughly to purify the new-born child. Among many customs, found all over the world, illustrative of this quality of fire, it is sufficient to recall that down to a late day the custom obtained among the peasants of Germany—and, perchance, still survives in remote corners—of driving cattle through a fire kindled in the fields, thereby securing immunity from the cattle plague.[81]

In the case of the sick, and of those otherwise afflicted, the contact with the fire was purely symbolical—vicarious, so to speak. Besides the method just described, the incantation texts tell us of various objects, such as certain plants, wood, wheat, onions, dates, palm-blossoms, wool, and seeds which were thrown into a fire, while an incantation was recited to the effect that, as the object disappears in the fire never to return, so the man’s sins, uncleanliness, or sickness may vanish never to return.

One of these incantations reads[82]:

As this onion is peeled, and thrown into the fire,
Consumed by Girru,[83] never again to be
Planted in a bed, never again to be furrowed,
Never again to take root,
Its stalk never to grow again, never to see the shining sun,
Never again to be seen on the table of god or king,
So may the curse, the ban, pain [?] distress [?]
Sickness, sighing, sin, transgression, injury,
Misdeed, the sickness in my body, which is in
My flesh and bowels be treated like this onion,
Be consumed this day by Girru.
May the ban be removed, may I see the light![84]

But while water and fire thus constitute the chief factors in the purification rites, the ceremonies themselves are further complicated by elaborate preparations for the final act of exorcising the demons, or of destroying the sorcerers and witches. The patient had to be prepared for the act. The exorcising priests donned special garments—often in imitation of the god in whose name they acted. Pieces of flesh and a mixture of dates, flour, honey, and butter, and other viands were offered to the demons as bribes, that they might thus be made more kindly disposed. The rites were generally performed at sunrise or shortly before—though occasionally also at night. The place where they were to be performed was to be swept clean, a table and often several tables were set, whereon the objects for the sacrifice were arranged, torches were lit, libations of wine poured out, and various other details were prescribed, some of which are not at all clear. In connection with every separate act of preparation a formula or prayer was recited, and great care was exercised that every detail should be carried out according to established custom. The slightest error might vitiate the entire ceremony.

We are fortunate in having several pictorial representations, on bronze, and stone tablets, of exorcising rites[85] which help us to understand the directions in the text. In these representations we see the seven chief demons, frequently mentioned in the incantation rituals, grouped together, and revealing by the expression of their faces and their threatening attitude their nature and purpose. The afflicted sufferer is lying on a bed at either end of which stands an ashipu (“exorciser”) or mashmashu (“purifier”).[86] The protecting deity and favourable spirits are also portrayed as helping to ward off the evil demons. Labartu, with the ass as her attendant, appears in the lowest compartment, where also are seen the offerings to appease the demons, and the ceremonial implements used in the incantation ceremonies.

It must not be supposed, however, that these purification rites were always and everywhere carried out in the same way. The variations and modifications seem to be endless. Instead of treating the sick man in his apartment, the ceremonies were frequently enacted on the roof of his house, and this appears to have been quite generally the case when the deity especially invoked was Ishtar. Directions are given to sweep the roof, holy water is sprinkled over it, a table is spread for the goddess with dates and a mixture of meal, honey, and butter, and a libation of wine is poured out.

Sickness itself being held as unclean, purification rites were observed on recovery; these included the purification of the house in which the patient had lain. After a king’s recovery from illness, the directions are specific that in addition to the ceremonies around the king’s bed, the palace was to be purified by passing through it with torches and censers. In the palace court seven tables must be spread to the seven chief deities, with offerings of various kinds of bread, dates, meal, oil, honey, butter, milk, with some sweet drink. Seven censers and seven vessels of wine were furthermore to be provided[87] and finally a lamb for sacrifice. Elsewhere, we are told that for the purification of a house that had in any way become unclean, the rooms, the threshold, the court roof, beams, and windows must be touched with asphalt, gypsum, oil, honey, butter, or holy water. Similar ceremonies were enacted to purify the image of a god before it could be put to use, or after it had become unclean.[88]

This purification of the dwelling reminds one of the regulations in the Priestly Code of the Old Testament for the ritualist cleansing of the house that had shown symptoms of infection.[89] Whether or not we may assume that, at the comparatively late date to which the Priestly Code belongs,—about the middle of the fifth century B.C., —medical science had advanced to a knowledge that disease could lurk in the walls and floors of houses, and that the regulations of the Priestly Code, therefore, reflect the influence of this advance, the basis of the Pentateuchal purification ritual is certainly of a much more primitive character, and identical with that which we find in the incantation ritual of Babylonia. The main emphasis in both is on purification from ritualist uncleanliness, and this point of view is a direct issue from the primitive ideas associated with taboo.

 

VIII

A further development of the taboo , but in a much higher direction, is represented by the public lamentation ritual, which from early days appears to have formed a part of the official cult on occasions of public distress, when the gods had manifested their displeasure by sending a pestilence, by disaster in war, by atmospheric disturbances, dealing death and destruction, or by terrifying phenomena in the heavens. We have numerous examples of such lamentations whereof the antiquity is sufficiently attested by the fact that they are written in Sumerian,[90] though for a better understanding translations into Babylonian, either in whole or in part, were added in the copies made at a later date. The basis of these texts is likewise the notion of uncleanliness. The entire land was regarded as having become taboo through contamination of some kind, or through some offence of an especially serious character. The gods are depicted as having deserted the city and shown their anger by all manner of calamities that have been visited upon the country and its inhabitants. Atonement can be secured only by an appeal to the gods, and a feature of this atonement ritual—as we may also call this service—is abstention from food and drink. We may well suppose that on such occasions the people repaired to the temples and participated in the service, though no doubt the chief part was taken by the priests and the king.

It was probably for these occasions that purification ceremonies (which appear to have been particularly elaborate) were prescribed for the priests, though it should be added that for all other occasions, also, the priests had to take precautions so as to be in a state of ritualist cleanliness before undertaking any service in the temples.[91] Atonement for the priests and the king, for the former as the mediators between the gods and their worshippers, for the latter as standing nearer to the gods than the masses and in a measure, as we have seen, a god’s representative on earth, was an essential preliminary to obtaining forgiveness for the people as a whole. In the public lamentation-songs it is the general condition of distress that is emphasised, and the impression is gained that the priests send forth their appeals to the gods for forgiveness on behalf of the people in general.

We have already had occasion to indicate the preeminent position occupied by the city of Nippur in the religious life of Babylonia.[92] It is therefore interesting to note that the atonement and lamentation ritual worked out by the priests of this centre became the pattern which was followed in other places —such as Isin, Ur, Larsa, Sippar, Babylon, and Borsippa. The proof is furnished by examples of lamentations, bearing internal evidence of their original connection with the temple E-Kur at Nippur, but in which insertions have been made to adapt them to other centres.

The laments themselves are rather monotonous in character, though the rhythmic chanting no doubt lessened the monotony and heightened their solemnity. They describe the devastation that has been wrought, repeating in the form of a litany the prayer that the gods may be appeased. Occasionally, the laments contain picturesque phrases.

As an instance, one will perhaps be sufficient,[93] which contains the insertions referred to, adapting the Nippur composition to Ur and Larsa.

O honoured one, return, look on thy city!
O exalted and honoured one, return, look on thy city!
O lord of lands, return, look on thy city!
O lord of the faithful word, return, look on thy city!
O Enlil, father of Sumer, return, look on thy city!
O shepherd of the dark-headed people, return, look on thy city!
O thou of self-created vision, return, look on thy city!
Strong one in directing mankind, return, look on thy city!
Giving repose to multitudes, return, look on thy city!
To thy city, Nippur, return, look on thy city!
To the brick construction of E-Kur, return, look on thy city!
To Ki-Uru,[94] the large abode, return, look on thy city!
To Dul-Azag,[95] the holy place, return, look on thy city!
To the interior of the royal house,[96] return, look on thy city!
To the great gate structure, return, look on thy city!
To E-Gan-Nun-Makh,[97] return, look on thy city!
To the temple storehouse, return, look on thy city!
To the palace storehouse, return, look on thy city![98]
Unto the smitten city—how long until thou returnest?
To the smitten—when wilt thou show mercy?
The city unto which grain was allotted,
Where the thirsty was satiated with drink.
Where she could say to her young husband, “my husband,”[99]
Where she could say to the young child, “my child,”
Where the maiden could say, “my brother.”
In the city where the mother could say, “my child,”
Where the little girl could say, “my father.”
There the little ones perish, there the great perish.
In the streets where the men went about, hastening hither and thither,
Now the dogs defile her booty,
Her pillage the jackal destroys,
In her banqueting hall the wind holds revel,
Her pillaged streets are desolate.[100]

In reading the closing lines of this litany, we are instinctively reminded of the prevailing note in the Biblical book of Lamentations, the five chapters of which represent independent compositions. These lamentation-songs still constitute, in orthodox Judaism, an integral part of the ritual for the day commemorative of the double destruction of Jerusalem —the first by Nebuchadnezzar in 586 B.C., and the second in 70 A.D., by the Romans—and, precisely as in ancient Babylonia, fasting constitutes one of the features of the day. Whether or not the second destruction actually occurred on the day commemorated is more than doubtful; and it is not even certain that the first destruction occurred on the 9th day of the 5th month. It is more likely that this day had acquired a significance as a day of fasting and lamentation, long before Jerusalem fell a prey to Babylonia, and for this reason was chosen by the Jews in commemoration of the great national catastrophe.[101] Be this as it may, the resemblance between the Hebrew and the Babylonian “lamentation” rituals suggests a direct influence on the Hebrews; which becomes all the more plausible if it be recalled that another fast day, which in post-exilic times became for the Jews the most solemn day of the year, took its rise during the sojourn of the Jews in Babylonia.[102]

Destructions of cities are often mentioned in the dates attached to business documents of ancient Babylonia. We have also a series of texts[103] in which the distress incident to national catastrophes brought about by the incursion of enemies is set forth in diction which recalls the style of the lamentation-psalms. It is interesting to note that in the' astrological omens (which formed the subject of the previous lecture) references to invasions by foreign foes are very frequent, and phrases are introduced, clearly taken from these commemorative compositions. All this points to the deep impression made upon the country by the disasters of the past, and suggests the question whether, in commemoration of these events, a certain day of fasting and lamentation may not have been yearly set aside, whereon the ancient compositions of the “Nippur” ritual were recited or sung in the temples, with an enumeration of the various occasions in the past when the gods had manifested their displeasure and wrath.

With such a supposition, one could reasonably account for the additions in the old ritual, referring to catastrophes in Ur, Larsa, Sippar, Babylon, and so forth, instead of the mere substitution of these names for that of Nippur which would have sufficed if the purpose had been merely to recall some particular event. Lacking direct evidence of a day set apart as a general fast-day and day of penitence, humiliation, and prayer for favour and grace during the coming year, a certain measure of caution must be exercised; but we are fully justified in going so far at least as to assume that the lamentation ritual was performed in the great centres when there was an actual or impending catastrophe, and that on such occasions the dire events of the past were recalled in laments which, by virtue of the sanctity that everything connected with the cult at Nippur had acquired, were based on the “Nippur” ritual.

The fear of divine anger runs, as an undercurrent, throughout the entire religious literature of Babylonia and Assyria. Rulers and people are always haunted by the fear lest Enlil, Sin, Shamash, Ea, Marduk, Nebo, Nergal, Ishtar, or some other deity manifest displeasure. This minor key is struck even in hymns which celebrate the kindness and mercy of the higher powers; there was a constant fear lest their mood might suddenly change. Death and sickness stood like spectres in view of all men, ready at any moment to seize their victims. Storms and inundations, however needful for the land, brought death and woe for man and beast. Enemies were constantly pressing in on one side or the other; and thus the occasions were frequent enough when the people were forced to cringe in contrition before the gods in the hope that they might soon smile with favour, and send joy into the heart of man, or else that a threatened blow might never fall.

As a complement to the public lamentation ritual, we have numerous compositions in which woe is poured forth before a god or goddess, and emphasis is laid upon the consciousness of guilt.[104] The soul is bowed down with the consciousness of some wrong committed, and even though the particular sin for which misfortune—sickness or some misadventure or trouble—has been sent is unknown to the suppliant himself, he yet feels that he must have committed some wrong to arouse such anger in the god who has struck him down. This is the significant feature in these “penitential psalms,” as they have been called, and one that raises them far above the incantation ritual, even though they assume the belief also in the power of demons and sorcerers to bring to pass the ills whereto human flesh is heir. To be sure, most, if not all, of these penitential psalms assume that the penitent is the king, just as most of the other classes of hymns are royal hymns[105]; but this would appear to be due mainly to the official character of the archives from which the scribes of Ashurbanapal obtained their material. In compositions of Assyrian origin, or modified by Assyrian priests, the official character is even more pronounced, since these priests, acting directly at the command of their royal master, had him more particularly in mind. We are safe in assuming that these royal laments and confessions formed the model for those used by the priests when the lay suppliant came before them, though exactly to what extent they were used in the case of individuals, as supplementary to the incantation rites, it is impossible to say.

Confession and lament are the burden of these psalms:[106]

Many are my sins that I have committed,
May I escape this misfortune, may I be relieved from distress!

and again:

My eye is filled with tears,
On my couch I lie at night, full of sighs,
Tears and sighing have bowed me down.[107]

The indications are distinct in these compositions that they formed part of a ritual, in which the officiating priest and the penitent each had his part. The priest, as mediator, enforces the appeal of the penitent:

He weeps, overpowered he cannot restrain himself.
Thou hearest earnest lament, turn thy countenance to him!
Thou acceptest petition, look faithfully on him!
Thou receivest prayer, turn thy countenance to him!
Lord of prayer and petition, let the prayer reach thee!
Lord of petition and prayer, let the prayer reach thee!

The appeal is here made to Enlil, Marduk, and Nebo, and closes with the refrain which is frequent in the penitential psalms:

May thy heart be at rest, thy liver[108] be appeased!)
May thy heart like the heart of the young mother,—
Like that of the mother who has borne, and of the father who has begotten,—return to its place!

Reference has been made to the fact that the sense of guilt in these hymns is so strong as to prompt the penitent to a confession, even when he does not know for what transgression—ritualistic or moral—he has been punished, nor what god or goddess he has offended.

The penitent says in one of these psalms[109]:

O lord my transgressions are many, great are my sins.
My god, my transgressions are many, great are my sins.
O god, whoever it be,[110] my transgressions are many, great are my sins.
O goddess, whoever it be, my transgressions are many, great are my sins.
The transgressions I have committed, I know not.
The sin I have done, I know not.
The unclean that I have eaten, I know not.
The impure on which I have trodden, I know not.
.           .           .          .          .          .          .          .
The lord in the anger of his heart has looked at me,
The god in the rage of his heart has encompassed me.
A god, whoever it be, has distressed me,
A goddess, whoever it be, has brought woe upon me.
I sought for help, but no one took my hand,
I wept, but no one hearkened to me,
I broke forth in laments, but no one listened to me.
Full of pain, I am overpowered, and dare not look up.
To my merciful god I turn, proclaiming my sorrow.
To the goddess [whoever it be, I turn proclaiming my sorrow]. 
O lord, [turn thy countenance to me, accept my appeal].
O goddess, [look mercifully on me, accept my appeal].
O god [whoever it be, turn thy countenance to me, accept my appeal].
O goddess whoever it be, [look mercifully on me, accept my appeal].
How long yet, 0 my god, [before thy heart shall be pacified]?
How long yet, O my goddess, [before thy liver shall be appeased]?
O god, whoever it be, may thy angered heart return to its place!
O goddess, whoever it be, may thy angered heart return to its place!

The higher intellectual plane reached by these compositions is also illustrated by the reflections attached to them on the weakness of human nature and the limitations of the human mind, unable to fathom the ways of the gods:

Men are obtuse,—and no one has knowledge.
Among all who are,—who knows anything?
Whether they do evil or good,—no one has knowledge.
O lord, do not cast thy servant off!
In the deep watery morass he lies—take hold of his hand!
The sin that I have committed, change to grace!
The transgressions that I have committed,—let the wind carry off!
Tear asunder my many iniquities like a garment!

Even more interesting are the reflections put into the mouth of an ancient—probably legendary— king of Nippur, Tabi-utul-Enlil, in a composition[111] which combines with an elaborate and touching lament the story of an aged royal sufferer, who like Job was known for his piety, and yet was severely punished and sorely tried by painful disease.

As in the book of Job, the tone of the composition is pessimistic and skeptical—at least to the extent of questioning whether any one can understand the hidden ways of the gods:

I attained (mature) life, to the limit of life I advanced.[112]
Whithersoever I turned—evil upon evil!

This penitential psalm ends with the answer to the king’s appeal; its most striking passage is the following—one of the finest in the whole realm of Babylonian literature, and marked by a remarkably modem undertone. The king declares that he did everything to please the gods; he prayed to them; he observed the new-moon, and the festivals, and brought the gods offerings:

Prayer was my rule, sacrificing my law,
The day of worship of my god, my joy,
The day of devotion to my gods, my profit and gain.

He instructed his people in the ways of the gods and did all in the hope of pleasing the higher powers —but apparently in vain:

What, however, seems good to one, to a god may be displeasing.
What is spurned by oneself may find favour with a god.
Who is there that can grasp the will of the gods in heaven?
The plan of a god is full of mystery,—who can understand it?
How can mortals learn the ways of a god?
He who is still alive at evening is dead the next morning.
In an instant he is cast into grief, of a sudden he is crushed.
This moment he sings and plays,
In a twinkling he wails like a mourner.
Like opening and closing,[113] (mankind’s) spirit changes.
If they hunger, they are like corpses.
Have they been satiated, they consider themselves a rival to their god.
If things go well, they prate of mounting to heaven.
If they are in distress, they speak of descending into Irkallu[114]

 

IX

As we have seen,[115] neither the cause or the nature of an eclipse was understood until a very late period, and, accordingly, the term “darkening” was applied indiscriminately to any phenomenon that temporarily obscured the moon. At the end of each month, therefore, the king proceeded to the sanctuary to take part in a ritual that must have had the same sombre character as the “lamentation” cult. In a collection of prayers, technically known as “Prayers for the Lifting Up of the Hand,”[116] i.e., prayers of imploration, we have an example of a prayer recited on the disappearance of the moon at the end of the month, to which an allusion to an eclipse is added.[117] The addition illustrates the association of ideas between the disappearance of the moon and a genuine eclipse.

One suggested the other, and we gain the impression that the belief prevailed that unless one succeeded in pacifying the gods at the end of the month, an eclipse would soon follow. It was a belief hard to disprove; if no eclipse took place, the conclusion followed that the gods had been pacified.

The prayer reads thus:

O Sin, O Nannar, mighty one . . .
O Sin, unparalleled, illuminator of the darkness!
Granting light to the people of all lands,
Guiding aright the black-headed people.
Bright is thy light, in the heavens thou art exalted!
Brilliant is thy torch, like fire burning,
Thy brightness fills the wide earth.
The joy [?] of mankind is increased at thy appearance.
O lofty one of the heavens, whose course no one can fathom! Supreme is thy light like Shamash, thy first-born.
Before thee the great gods prostrate themselves,
The oracle of all lands is entrusted to thee.
The great gods beseech thee to give counsel!
Assembled, they stand in submission to thee!
O Sin, glorious one of E-Kur, they beseech thee that thou mayest render a decision!
The day of disappearance is the day of the proclaiming the decision of the great gods ![118]
The thirtieth day is thy holy day, a day of appeal to thy divinity.
In the evil hour of an eclipse of the moon in such and such a month and on such and such a day.[119]
Against the evil omens and the evil unfavourable signs which threaten my palace and my land.

The complement to the day of disappearance of the moon, elsewhere called “a day of distress,” is the new-moon day, when, amidst exclamations of joy, the return of the moon is hailed as its release from captivity.

A prayer for this occasion—to be recited at night—is attached to the above text and reads as follows:

O god of the new-moon, unrivalled in might, whose counsel no one can grasp,
I have poured for thee a pure libation of the night, I have offered to thee a pure drink.
I bow down to thee, I stand before thee, I seek thee!
Direct thoughts of favour and justice towards me!
That my god and my goddess who since many days have been angry towards me,
May be reconciled in right and justice, that my path may be fortunate, my road straight!
And that he may send Zakar,[120] the god of dreams, in the middle of the night to release my sins!
May I hear that thou hast taken away my iniquity.
That for all times I may celebrate thy worship!

We have an interesting proof that this new-moon prayer was actually used on the occasion of the appearance of the new-moon. A tablet has been found at Sippar,[121] containing this very prayer, put into the mouth of Shamash-shumukin (the brother of King Ashurbanapal) who, by appointment of his brother, ruled over Babylonia for twenty years (648-628 B.C.). Attached to this prayer are directions for the accompanying ritual, which includes an offering of grain, dates, and meal, of binu wood, butter, cream, and wine.

To this day the Arabs greet the new-moon with shouts of joy,[122] and the Jewish ritual prescribes a special service for the occasion which includes the recital of psalms of “joy.”[123] This joy on the reappearance of the moon is well expressed in various “Sumerian” hymns, originating with the moon-cult at Ur. They have all the marks of having been chanted by the priests when the first crescent was seen in the sky. The crescent is compared to a bark, in which the moon-god sails through the heavens.

In one of these chants we read:[124]

Self-created,[125] glorious one, in the resplendent bark of heaven!
Father Nannar, lord of Ur!
Father Nannar, lord of E-Kishirgal ![126]
Father Nannar, lord of the new-moon!
Lord of Ur, first-born son of Enlil!
As thou sailest along, as thou sailest along!
Before thy father, before Enlil in thy sovereign glory!
Father Nannar, in thy passing on high, in thy sovereign glory!
O bark, sailing on high along the heaven in thy sovereign glory!
Father Nannar, as thou sailest along the resplendent road (?)
Father Nannar, when, like a bark on the floods, thou sailest along!
Thou, when thou sailest along, thou, when thou sailest along!
Thou when thou risest, thou when thou sailest along!
In thy rising at the completion of the course, as thou sailest along!
Father Nannar, when like a cow thou takest care of the calves ![127]
Thy father looks on thee with a joyous eye—as thou takest care!
Come! glory to the king of splendour, glory to the king who comes forth!
Enlil has entrusted a sceptre to thy hand for all times,
When over Ur in the resplendent bark thou mountest.[128]

In this somewhat monotonous manner, and evidently arranged for responsive chanting, the hymn continues. The keynote is that of rejoicing at the release of the new-moon, once more sailing along the heavens, which it is hoped augurs well also for relief from anxiety on earth.

Besides the beginning and end of the month, the middle of the month was fraught with significance. Experience must have taught the priests and the people that a genuine eclipse of the moon could take place only at this period, when the moon appears to be taking a “rest” for a few days—remaining apparently unchanged. The middle of the month was therefore designated as shabbatum,[129] conveying the idea of “resting.” The term corresponds to the Hebrew Shabbath or Shabbathon,[130] which among the Hebrews was applied originally to the four phases of the moon, and then to a regular interval of seven days, without reference to the moon’s phases, and thus became the technical term for the weekly “day of rest.” In a previous lecture, we dwelt on the importance attached to the appearance of the full-moon.

An appearance too early or somewhat belated augured a misfortune,—defeat in war, bad crops, insufficient flooding of the canals, or death. Rejoicing therefore followed the appearance of the full-moon at the expected time; and joy was multiplied when the danger of an eclipse was passed. This Babylonian “Sabbath” was, therefore, appropriately designated as “a day of pacification” when the gods appeared to be at peace with the world, smiling on the fields and gracious toward mankind.

Among the collections of hymns to Sin there are several that bear the impress of having been composed for the celebration of the full-moon:[131]

O Sin, resplendent god, light of the skies, son of Enlil, shining one of E-Kur!
With universal sway thou rulest all lands! thy throne is placed in the lofty heavens!
Clothed with a superb garment, crowned with the tiara of ruler-ship, full grown in glory!
Sin is sovereign—his light is the guide of mankind, a glorious ruler,
Of unchangeable command, whose mind no god can fathom.
O Sin, at thy appearance the gods assemble, all the kings prostrate themselves.
Nannar, Sin . . . thou comest forth as a brilliant dark-red stone.[132]
. . . as lapis lazuli. At the brilliancy of Sin the stars rejoice, the night is filled with joy.
Sin dwells in the midst of the resplendent heavens, Sin, the faithful beloved son.
Exalted ruler, first-born of Enlil . . .
Light of heaven, lord of the lands . . .
His word is merciful in Eridu . . .
Thou hast established Ur as thy dwelling[?].

The sun, as well as the moon, was celebrated in hymns, and there can be little doubt that, in the many localities of sun-worship, both at his rising and at his setting, the priests daily chanted those hymns, accompanied by offerings and by a more or less elaborate ritual.[133]

 

X

Festival days sacred to a deity were numerous and formed another important feature of worship. As was to be expected of an agricultural people like the ancient Babylonians, these festivals were connected originally with the seasons of the year. The most important was the spring festival, symbolised by the marriage of the young sun-god of the spring with the goddess of vegetation. At Nippur the pair was Ninib and his consort Gula; at Lagash, Ningirsu and Bau. When the attributes of all the various local solar deities were transferred to Marduk of Babylon, the consorts of Ninib and Ningirsu and other consorts were replaced by Marduk’s consort Sarpanit,—the Ishtar[134] of Babylon. To an agricultural people the spring represented the birth of the year. Thereupon this spring festival naturally became the new year’s celebration, known by the Sumerian name, Zag-Muk. As Babylon grew in political and religious importance, the new year’s festival became the most solemn occasion of the year.

We have seen[135] that the cult of Nebo, whereof the centre was in the neighbouring Borsippa, was closely-associated with that of Marduk, and that Nebo himself became, in the systematised pantheon, the son of Marduk. A feature of this annual festival was the visit paid by Nebo to his father, Marduk, marked by a procession of the images of the great gods, borne along the via sacra leading to the Marduk temple in Babylon.[136] A heightened solemnity was imparted to the festival by an assemblage of all the great gods in a special chapel, known as the “chamber of fates,”[137] in order to decree for the coming year the fate of the country and of individuals. Over this assembly Marduk presided with his son, Nebo, at his side, acting as recorder. The festival lasted for eleven days, and on the concluding day, as it would appear, the fates decreed by the gods were definitely sealed.

A special interest attaches to this new year’s festival, because it served as the pattern for both the New Year and the Day of Atonement of the Jews. The popular Jewish tradition represents God as sitting in judgment during the first ten days of the year, surrounded by his court of angels, who inscribe in the book of fate the names of all persons with what is to be their destiny for the coming year. To this day the New Year’s greeting among Jews is: “May you be inscribed for a good year!” The nine days intervening between the New Year’s Day and the Day of Atonement are days of probation, but at the dose of the tenth day the book of fate for the year is sealed, and the wish of this day therefore is, “May you be sealed for a good year!”[138]

The first days of the new year, among the Babylonians, as well as among the Jews, after their close contact with the Babylonians during the Exilic period, thus assumed an austere character, marked by penitential and expiatory rites and offerings. The consciousness of sin and guilt was brought home at this season of the year with special force to ruler, priests, and people. The rulers, standing nearer to the gods as they did, first performed the expiatory ceremonies, the general term for which was Nam-Bur-Bi,[139] but we may be sure that on this occasion the priests and people participated in the solemn rites. We may further suppose that some of the penitential and lamentation hymns of a personal character, of which we have many examples in the library of Ashur-banapal, and in which the personal sense of guilt and sin is emphasised with fervent appeals for forgiveness , were recited during these penitential days of the new year’s festival, even though their application was general, and they may not have been composed for this special occasion.

The Babylonians and Assyrians must have had harvest festivals, marked like those of other people by rejoicings and thanksgivings to the gods, but as yet we have not unearthed these rites and ceremonies. We are, however, fortunate enough to know a good deal about a festival that forms a complement to the new year’s celebration and, because of its antiquity and wide bearings on the general religious ideas of the Semites, commands a special interest.

The sun-god of the spring was pictured as a youthful warrior triumphing over the storms of winter. The goddess of vegetation—Ishtar, under various names—unites herself to this god, and the two in unison—sun and earth—bring forth new life in the fields and meadows. But after a few months the summer season begins to wane, and rains and storms again set in. The change of seasons was depicted as due to the death of the youthful god; according to one tradition he was deserted by the goddess who had won his love; according to another, he was slain by a wild boar. An old Sumerian designation of this god was Dumu-Zi, abbreviated from a fuller designation, Dumu-Zi-Ab-zu, and interpreted as “the legitimate [or “faithful”] child of the deep.”[140] The allusion is apparently to the sun rising out of the ocean, which was supposed to flow about and underneath the world. The name passed over to the Semites of Babylonia, and thence spread throughout and beyond the borders of Semitic settlements under the form Tammuz. With the name, went the myth of the youthful god, full of vigour, but who is slain, and condemned to a sojourn in the lower world, from which he is released and revivified in the following spring.

The antiquity of the cult of Tammuz in Babylonia is confirmed by religious compositions in Sumerian, bewailing the loss of the god and also hailing his return. This, of itself, would not, necessarily, prove the Sumerian origin of the myth, which indeed is of so widespread a character as to justify us in regarding it as common to Sumerians and Semites; but it shows that the weeping for Tammuz, which Ezekiel (viii., 14) portrays as being practised even in his days by the women at the north gate of the temple in Jerusalem, is one of the oldest items of the Sumero-Babylonian cult. In the older Babylonian calendar the summer solstice fell in the sixth month; in the later calendar in the fourth month, which became known as the month of the festival of Tammuz, and then briefly as the month of Tammuz.[141] With the summer solstice the year begins to wane, and it was appropriate, therefore, to hold at this time a festival commemorating the gradual waning of the god’s vigour.

While we meet references to Tammuz in hymns and other compositions, we hear little or nothing of his cult in later days. The question may be raised, therefore, whether or not it was officially recognised in the temples after a certain date. There are, indeed, good reasons for believing that the worship of Tammuz continued as a private, rather than as an official, cult; but from this point of view, the cult becomes even more significant, since it affords an insight into the popular religion, apart from rites merely official.

In contrast to the lamentation hymns, which formed part of the atonement ritual,[142] the hymns to Tammuz are remarkably free from references to national disasters. A personal note runs through them, in keeping with the popular character of a festival, based on the change of seasons, and which is fraught with such significance to an agricultural people. They are largely composed of an enumeration of the names of the god, accompanied by phrases expressive of grief at his removal to the lower world—the abode of the dead.

One of them reads, in part:[143]

[Oh for the lord sitting in sorrow], oh for the lord sitting in sorrow! Damu sits, oh for the lord sitting in sorrow!
Ama-Ushum-Gal sits, oh for the lord sitting in sorrow!
Alas! my hero Damu!
Alas! child, legitimate lord!
Alas! Kadi of the shining [?] eyes!
Alas! Nagar, lord of the net!
Alas! prince, lord of invocation!
Alas! my heavenly wailer!
The raging storm has brought him low,—him that has taken his way to the earth.
Like a reed he is broken . . .
A hero, he has forsaken his field.
A shepherd, Tammuz is cast in sorrow.
His mother[144] wails—she begins the wailing for him.
Wailing and sighing—she begins the wailing for him.
She rises—bitterly she wails!
She sits—she puts her hand on her heart[145]
She breaks out in wailing—bitter is her wailing.
She breaks out in lament—bitter is her lament!

In another lament,[146] we are specifically told:

He is gone, he is gone to the bosom of the earth,
And the dead are numerous in the land!

While Tammuz is hidden in the earth, verdure disappears , vegetation ceases, and fertility among animals pauses:

How long will the springing up of verdure be withheld?
How long will vegetation be withheld?

In other compositions, Ishtar is described as herself proceeding to the nether world to seek out her lover and spouse, Tammuz, in order to bring the god back to earth again amidst general rejoicing that clearly symbolises the return of vegetation. May we see in this association of Ishtar with Tammuz the reason why in the later periods we do not find references to the popular festival as part of the official cult? Ishtar and Tammuz are closely related figures; both symbolise vegetation—one as the personification of the sun, the other as the personification of mother earth. The combination of Tammuz and Ishtar, as husband and wife, is merely the usual artificial attempt to combine two figures that represent the same idea—induced in this instance by the analogy of the male and female principles. There are, in fact, indications that Tammuz was, at certain places, or at an early period, regarded as a goddess and not as a god.[147]

The story of Tammuz’s annual journey to the nether world is paralleled by Ishtar’s descent into the realm of Nergal and Ereshkigal.[148] The two stories embody the same myth of the change of seasons, and it is natural, therefore, that with the later predominance of the Ishtar cult, Ishtar should gradually have displaced Tammuz in the official ritual of the temples. In place of the lament for Tammuz we have the myth of Ishtar’s enforced journey to Aralti,—as the nether world was commonly termed,[149]—and of her ultimate escape, which was recited in the temples at the festival marking the waning of the summer season;[150] the lament for the goddess was tempered, however, by the certain hope of her return. Popular customs survive theoretical and official reconstructions of beliefs and practices through the speculations and the intellectual influence of priests. The testimony of Ezekiel[151] is a significant witness to the persistence in the Semitic world, as late as the sixth century B.C., of the custom of bewailing the disappearance of Tammuz.

No less significant is the spread of the Tammuz myth under various forms far beyond the confines of the Semitic world. Is it, perhaps, also significant that the Hebrew prophet describes the women of Jerusalem as practising this rite? In all religious bodies, as has already been suggested,[152] women represent the conservative element, among whom religious customs continue in practice after they have been abandoned by men. The women—outside of their functions as priestesses—took no part, so far as we know, in the official cult of Babylonia and Assyria, as they took no such part among the ancient Hebrews. It may turn out, therefore, to be the case that in Babylonia, as in Palestine, the non-official or extra-official cult of Tammuz was maintained outside of the temples through the influence of the female population—as a popular rite, surviving from very ancient days, and having had at one time a significance equal to that which was afterwards assumed by the cult of Ishtar.

In another regard the mourning for Tammuz is invested with a special interest. Under the form Ad6n, —a title of Tammuz signifying “lord,”—the myth passed to the Phoenicians, and thence to the Greeks, who, adapting it to their own mythology (which may also have preserved a similar myth of the change of seasons), replace Ishtar by Aphrodite.[153] The story of Adonis and Aphrodite in any case is to be traced directly to the Sumerian-Babylonian Tammuz-Ishtar myth. The weeping for the lost sun-god is the complement to the rejoicing at the return of the sun-god in the spring—the new year’s festival—when nature awakens to new life. The weeping and the rejoicing appear to have been continued up to late days. In one form or another we find among Greeks and Romans the commemoration in the spring of the death of a god, followed by a rejoicing at his return.[154] In view of this, the theory has been advanced that in its last analysis, the story of the crucifixion and resurrection of the Christ embodies a late echo of the Tammuz-Adonis myth.[155] The “son of God” is slain to reappear as the “risen Lord,” just as in the Phrygian story of Attis and Cybele, and in the Egyptian tale of Osiris and Isis, we have another form of the same myth symbolising the change of seasons.[156]

 

Plates:

Plate 23:

Fig. 1. Zikkurats of the Anu-Adad at Ashur Fig. 2. Stage-tower at Samarra


PI. 23. Fig. 1. The two Zikkurats of the Anu-Adad Temple at Ashur.

See comment to PI. 24, Fig. 2. The temple being a double construction, one zikkurat or stage tower belongs to the Anu sanctuary, the other to the sanctuary of Adad. The construction of this stage tower may be traced back to the reign of Ashurreshishi I. (c. 1 150 B.C.). It was rebuilt by Shalmaneser III. (858-824 b.c). The illustration shows the restoration of the younger construction on the basis of the systematic excavations conducted chiefly by Andrae.

PI. 23. Fig. 2. The Stage Tower at Samarra.

Dating from the 9th century A.D. and built of hard stone; it is still standing at Samarra, a settlement on the Tigris, and used as a minaret in connection with an adjoining mosque. The shape is directly derived from the old Babylonian (or Sumerian) Zikkurats and may be regarded as typical of these constructions. In most mosques, the minaret is directly attached to the main building like the tower or steeple of a church, but there are some which still illustrate the originally independent character of the tower. See Ernst Herzfeld, Samarra (Berlin, 1907), and Hermann Thiersch, Pharos, Antike, Islam und Occident (Leipzig, 1909).

 

Plate 24:

Fig. 1. Plan of Temple of Enlil at Nippur Fig. 2. Plan of Anu-Adad Temple at Ashur


PI. 24. Fig. 1. Plan of the Temple of Enlil at Nippur.

In this temple which may be regarded as typical for sacred edifices in Babylonia, B represents the outer court, and A, the inner court, the two being practically parallel in size and shape. The Zikkurat or stage tower (A 1) is at the back of the inner court. The narrower section- represents the sacred chamber (or the approach to it) in which the image of Enlil stood. In the outer court, Bi represents one of the smaller shrines of which there were many within the sacred area to the gods and goddesses associated with the cult of Enlil and Ninlil. See Hilprecht, Excavation* in Assyria and Babylonia, p. 470, and the detailed plans ' and drawings in C. S. Fisher, Excavations at Nippur.

Fig. 2. Plan of the Temple of Anu and Adad at Ashur.

The temple was originally built in honour of Anu, the solar deity (who is replaced by Ashur) but at a very early date, Adad (or Ramman) was associated with him. The two temples, consistently referred to in the Assyrian inscriptions as the “Temple of Anu and Adad,” have a large entrance court in common. Behind this court lie the two temples proper, each having (a) a broad outer court, (b) an oblong inner court, leading (c) to the sacred chamber where the images of Anu-Ashur and Adad, respectively, stood. This deviation from the Babylonian model, ' a broad outer and an oblong inner court instead of two practically parallel courts, is typical of Assyrian scared architecture. Each temple has its Zikkurat immediately adjoining it. See Andrae, Der Anu-Adad Tempel (Leipzig, 1909), PI. V., and especially pp. 80-84.

 

Plate 25:

Fig. 1. Exorcising Demons of Disease Fig. 2. Types of Demons


Pl. 25. Fig. 1. Exorcising Demons of Disease.

Bronze tablet in the de Clercq collection (Paris). The figure at the top is a typical demon. In the uppermost row are the symbols of the gods similar to those found on Boundary Stones (see comment to Pl. 22). Those here depicted are Anu (shrine with tiara), Ea (mace with ram’s head), Adad (lightning fork), Marduk (spear-head), Nebo (double staff), Ishtar (eight-pointed star), Shamash (sun disc), Sin (crescent), Sibitti (seven circles). The second row shows the group of seven demons so frequently referred to in the incantation texts (p. 310 seq.). In the third row, the exorcising ceremonial is depicted. The afflicted sufferer lies on a bed, at either end of which stands an officiating exorciser, clad in a fish robe as the priest of Ea, the god of the waters, who with Girru or Nusku, the god of fire, plays a chief part in the incantation ritual. The demon behind the fish-priest to the right seems to be warding off the two other demons, while behind the other fish-priest is an altar with a lamp—the symbol of Nusku, the fire-god. In the third compartment are various objects: two jars, a bowl, a water bag, and articles of food—intended probably as offerings to the demons. In the centre is the demon Labartu holding a serpent in each hand, a swine at each breast, and resting with one knee on an ass—the symbol of Labartu. The ass is lying on a ship, the water being indicated by swimming fishes. Lastly, to the left of Labartu is another demon in a threatening attitude with a whip in his upraised hand—perhaps a protecting demon, driving off the cruel Labartu, who sails away in her ship. The reverse shows the back of the demon looking over the head of the tablet. Other tablets of this nature—in bronze or stone— have been found, showing more or less significant variations. Up to the present eight such specimens are known. See Frank, Babylonische Beschwdrungsreliefs (Leipzig, 1908).

Fig. 2. Types of Demons.

Now in the British Museum. See R. C. Thompson, The Devils, and Evil Spirits of Babylonia (London, 1903), vol. i., Pl. II.

 

Plate 26:

Fig. 1. King Ashurbanapal in Lion Hunt and pouring Libations over Four Lions killed in the Hunt Fig. 2. Kneeling Winged Figures before Sacred Tree

 

Pl. 26. Fig. 1. King Ashurbanapal, King of Assyria (668-626 B.C.), in a lion hunt and pouring a libation over four dead lions.

This alabaster slab is one of a large series illustrative of the royal sport in Assyria—hunting lions, wild horses, gazelles, and other animals. These slabs formed the decoration of portions of the walls in the large halls of the palace of Ashurbanapal at Kouyunjik (Nineveh). They were found by Layard and are now one of the great attractions of the British Museum. See Layard, Monuments of Nineveh , i., Pl. 10-12 and 31-32; Place, Ninive et VAssyrie, Pl. 50-57 and 62, as well as Mansell’s “British Museum Photographs,” Part III. {Assyrian Sculptures ), Nos. 455-520 A. As specimens of the art of Assyria they are of deep interest, but no less as illustrations of life and manners, supplemented by the equally extensive series of slabs which illustrate the campaigns waged by this king. (Layard, op. cit., i., Pl. 13-30; 40-41; 57-83; 11., Pl. 18-19; 25-31; 33-50; Place, op. cit., Pl. 58-66 and Mansell Nos. 438-50). Similar martial designs in the palace of Sargon at Khorsabad illustrating his campaigns, for which see Botta et Flandin, Monument de Ninive , Pl. 31-40; 49-73; 86-101; 117-147; (Hunting Scenes, Pl. 108-113).

Ashurbanapal with his attendants behind him is pouring a libation over four lions killed in the hunt. An altar is in the centre, and a pole or tree such as is often seen on the seal cylinders when sacrificial scenes are portrayed. The musicians to the left precede the attendants carrying a dead lion on their backs.

Pl. 26. Fig. 2. Kneeling Winged Figures before the Sacred Tree.

Alabaster slab found in the North-West Palace at Nimroud. (Ashumasirpal 883-859 B.C.). See Layard, Monuments of Nineveh, i.,    Pl. 7 A, and Mansell, “British Museum Photographs,” Part III., {Assyrian Sculptures), No. 326.

The sacred tree or the tree of life, as it should perhaps be called, is frequently portrayed on Assyrian seal cylinders in all manner of variations. Though found also on Babylonian specimens its earliest occurrence, indeed, being on a boundary stone (c 1112 B.C.) as a decoration of the garment of a Babylonian ruler, Marduk-nadinakhē, it is a distinctive characteristic on Assyrian monuments. The tree intended is clearly the palm, though it becomes conventionalised to such a degree as to lose almost all the traits of that species. Instead of kneeling winged figures we find on other slabs of the N.-W. Palace of Nimroud as well as at Khorsabad and Kouyunjik (see Layard, op. cit ., i., Pl. 5-8; 34-39; 43-45; Botta et Flandin, Monument de Ninive , Pl. 24-30; 74-75, and Place, Ninive et I’Assyrie, Pl. 46-47): (a) standing winged figures with human faces, (b) eagle-headed figures, and (c) kings with the winged figures, further conventionalised as ornaments on robes into (d) all kinds of fantastic shapes, winged bulls, winged horses, ostriches, winged sphinxes, etc. (See Layard, op. cit., i., 6-8 and 43-50).

The winged figures preferably carry a cone in one hand and a basket in the other, or a branch in one hand and a basket in the other. On the seal cylinders the variations are even more numerous. Instead of winged figures, we find bulls or lions with birds and scorpions to either side of the tree, or the winged figures stand on sphinxes, or human headed bulls take the place of the winged figures; and more the like. It is evident that the scene is in all cases an adoration of the tree. In a purer form this adoration appears on seal cylinders like No. 687 in Ward, Cylinders of Western Asia (p. 226), where we find two priests clad in fish robes —as attendants of Ea—with a worshipper behind one of the priests; on No. 688 with only one priest and a worshipper to either side; or No. 680, the goddess Ishtar on one side of the tree, and a god—perhaps Adad—on the other side with a worshipper behind the latter; or still simpler on No. 689 where there is only one priest and a worshipper to either side of the tree.

The winged figures in such various forms represent, as do also the sphinxes, protecting powers of a lower order than the gods, but who like Ishtar and Adad in the specimen just referred to are the guardians of the sacred tree, with which the same ideas were associated by the Babylonians and Assyrians as with the tree of life in the famous chapter of Genesis, or as with trees of life found among many other peoples. The cones which the winged figures beside the tree hold indicate the fruit of the tree, plucked for the benefit of the worshippers by these guardians who alone may do so. A trace of this view appears in the injunction to Adam and Eve (Genesis ii.) to eat of the fruit of all the trees except the one which, being the tree of knowledge, was not for mortal man to pluck—as little as the fruit of the “Tree of Life.” For further details see the valuable Chapter XXXVIII. on “The Tree of Life," in Ward, Cylinders of Western Asia.

 

Plate 27:

Winged Figure with Palm Branch and Spotted Deer

Pl. 27. Winged Figure with Palm Branch and Spotted Deer.

See Layard, Monuments of Nineveh, i., Pl. 35, and Mansell, "British Museum Photographs,” Part iii., (Assyrian Sculptures), No. 358. In Layard (and Mansell, No. 357) a second winged figure may be found carrying a branch of the palm tree and an ibex, while Pl. 34 presents as a third variation a winged figure with basket and branch; and Pl. 5 winged figure with cone and basket like on the representation of the tree of life (see comment to preceding plate). The palm branch symbolises the tree of life which has been plucked for the benefit of the king to whom the branch and therefore the blessings of life are thus offered. The deer as well as the ibex is a sacrificial animal, and symbolises the gift offered by the royal worshippers in return, and received on behalf of the god by the winged figure acting as mediator or priest. Attached to the figure (alabaster slab) is the so-called standard inscription of Ashurnasirpal, King of Assyria (883-859 B.C.) in whose palace (N.-W. Palace of Nimroud) at Calah it was found. Now in the British Museum.

 

Plate 28:

Fig. 1. Offering to Ur-Enlil, Chief God of Nippur Fig. 2. Babylonian Type of Gilgamesh, the Hero of the Babylonian Epic

 

Pl. 28. Fig. 1. Votive Tablet of Ur-Enlil, Patesi of Nippur (c 3000 B.C.).

Limestone tablet with brief votive inscription found by Haynes at Nippur and now in the Imperial Ottoman Museum at Constantinople. The upper scene represents a naked worshipper who is none other than Ur-Enlil himself, offering a libation to Enlil, the chief god of Nippur. In accordance with the principle of symmetry, so frequently illustrated on the seal cylinders, the scene is given in double form. The lower section shows a goat and sheep followed by two men, one with a vessel on his head the other with a stick in his hand. The animals may represent sacrifices to be offered to the god. Another limestone tablet has been found at Nippur, likewise showing a naked worshipper—perhaps the same Ur-Enlil—before Enlil and a gazelle in the lower section. See Hilprecht, Babylonian Expedition, i., 2 Pl. XVI. and No. 94, and the same author’s Excavations in Assyria and Babylonia, p. 417. The naked worshipper—a custom of primitive days for which there are parallels in other religions—is also found on a limestone bas-relief from Telloh (de Sarzec, Decouvertes, p. 209; Heuzey, Catalogue, pp. 117-118).

Fig. 2. Babylonian Type of Gilgamesh, the Hero of the Babylonian Epic

Terra-cotta. Found at Telloh. Now in the Louvre. The hero who is naked holds a vase from which a jet of water streams to either side, symbolising the association of the solar hero with the sun-god (see comment to Pl. 6-7), who is frequently represented with streams. See de Sarzec, Decouvertes, p. 251; Heuzey, Catalogue, p. 341. So also frequently on seal cylinders. See Ward, Seal Cylinders of Western Asia, Chap. XI.

 

Plate 29:

Votive Offerings from Lagash

Pl. 29. Votive Offerings (Copper) from Lagash.

Found at Telloh and now in the Louvre. The two kneeling figures represent deities—probably in both cases Ningirsu—and bearing dedicatory inscriptions of Gudea, the Patesi of Lagash (c. 2350 B.C.) The two bulls contain dedicatory inscriptions of Gudea to the goddess Inninna for her temple E-Anna in Girsu (a section of Lagash). The two female figures with baskets on their heads, likewise bear dedicatory inscriptions. Similar figures—male and female—have been found with inscriptions of various rulers. The basket on the head is the symbol of participation in the erection of a sacred edifice, as in the case of Ur Ninâ (see Pl. 2). See De Sarzec, Decouvertes , Pl. 28, pp. 245-247; Heuzey, Catalogue , pp. 300-318.

 

Plate 30:

 

Fig. 1. Lion of Babylon Fig. 2. Dragon of Babylon


PL 30. Fig. 1. Lion of Babylon.

PL 30. Fig. 2. Dragon of Babylon.

Pieced together from numerous fragments of glazed tiles of the* Neo-Babylonian period, found at Babylon. See Mitteilungen der Deutschen Orient-Gesellschaft, Nos. 2-3; 6 (pp. 13-17); 12-13; 19, etc.

This lion is one of a large number of such figures that were placed as decorations in the Via Sacra of Babylon, leading to E-Sagila the temple of Marduk, and along which on the New Year’s festival (and no doubt on other festive occasions) the gods were carried in procession. The lions—as symbols of Marduk—faced to the north, and lined the walls of both sides of the street which, built by Nebuchadnezzar II. (604-561 B.C.), rose high above the houses of the city. The name given to the street Ai-ibur-shabu signified “may the oppressor not wax strong”; it was paved with large blocks of limestone and volcanic breccia, containing inscriptions commemorating the work of Nebuchadnezzar in honour of Marduk. See Koldewey, Die Pflastersteine von Aiburschabu in Babylon (Berlin, 1901).

As specimens of art, these glazed tiles, brilliantly coloured—blue and yellow predominating—are of special interest in enabling us to trace the splendid achievements of the Achaemenian Kings at Susa (see Perrot and Chipiez, History of Art in Persia, pp. 136161) direct to their Babylonian and Assyrian prototypes. For similar glazed tiles on Assyrian edifices see Layard, Monuments of Nineveh, i., 84-87; Botta et Flandin, Monument de Ninive, ii., PI. 155-156 and the restorations in Place, Ninive et VAssyrie, PI. 14 - 17 ; 27-31 (Khorsabad).

The dragon—a composite monster with a horned serpent’s head, the scaled body, the front legs of a lion and the hind legs of an eagle—belongs to the same category of ideas that produced the human headed bulls and lions, the winged human figures, and the eagle-headed winged figures resting, probably, upon primitive notions of hybrid beings, as reported by Berosus (see Zimmem Keilinschriften und das Alte Testament, ii., p. 488 seq.), that were supposed to precede the more regular forms of animal creation. It was natural, therefore, that such monsters should become on the one hand the symbols of gods, and on the other hand be chosen as the representations of the inferior order of gods—the demons or spirits—here serving as protectors of temples and palaces and as guardians of the tree of life (see comment to Pl. 26, Fig. 2). The picture of Marduk (Pl. 15, Fig. 2) shows the dragon as the symbol of this god, though probably transferred to him from Enlil. (See comment to Pl. 15, Fig. 1.)

The dragon together with the unicorn (or wild ox) and ornamented friezes formed the exterior decoration of the walls of the magnificent gate of Ishtar, excavated by the German expedition at Babylon, and that formed the approach to the sacred area of Marduk’s temple. It is estimated that these walls had no less than thirteen rows of alternating dragons and bulls superimposed one upon the other, together with ornamented friezes which were likewise glazed tiles. Repeated at regular interstices, we would thus obtain a pattern furnishing many hundreds of these animal designs. It is such designs that the prophet Ezekiel in his vision (Chap. viii., 10) sees “portrayed on the wall” of the temple at Jerusalem.

Footnotes and references:

[1]:

Genesis, chap. xxviii., 11-22. The story in its present form represents the combination of two versions.

[2]:

The Hebrew term mākôm corresponds to the Arabic makâm, which is still used to designate a shrine or a chapel.

[3]:

The Hebrew term māshah, “to anoint” (from which we obtain the term Messiah), means to “press,” and to this day the Mohammedan pilgrims at Mecca press against the Caaba— the sanctuary at that place—in order to gain for themselves the sanctity attaching to it. See Wellhausen, Reste Arabischen Heidentums, p. 105 seq. The same motive appears to underlie the custom of the orthodox Jews of Palestine who in praying press against the wall at Jerusalem that is traditionally regarded as part of Solomon’s temple.

[4]:

1 Kings viii., 13.

[5]:

Presidential address before the Egyptian Section of the Third International Congress for the History of Religions. Transactions, vol. i., pp. 186 seq.

[6]:

See above, p. 241.

[7]:

Thus we have

  • E-Zida, “legitimate house,” the name of Nebo’s temple in Borsippa,
  • E-Anna, “heavenly house,” the name of Ishtar’s temple in Uruk, E-Sagila,
  • “the lofty house,” the name of Ea’s temple in Eridu and of Marduk’s sanctuary in Babylon, E-Barra,
  • “the shining house,” the name of the temple of Shamash in Sippar, and Larsa,
  • “house of joy,” the name of Sin’s temple in Ur,

etc.

[8]:

So, e.g., Lugalzaggisi calls himself “priest of Anu,” “great servant of Sin,” etc. (Thureau-Dangin, Sumerisch-Akkadische Konigsinschriften , p. 154 lines 7 and 12), and at the close of Babylonian history, we find Nebuchadnezzar II. designating himself as the “lofty Patesi,” i.e., “priestly ruler” (Rawlinson, I., Plate 59, col. i., 5).

[9]:

Above, pp. 18 seq.; 104, 122 seq.

[10]:

See, e.g., the list of temples in a Nippur text from the Cas-site period, published by Clay, Dated Cassite Archives (Babylonian Expedition, vol. xiv.), No. 148,

[11]:

Scheil, Recueil de Travaux, vol. xvii., 39.

[12]:

Thus Nebo’s temple in Babylon was known as E-Zida, “the legitimate house,” which was the name also of his temple in the central place of his worship at Borsippa. Shamash’s temple at Babylon was E-Barra, “the shining house,” as at Sippar, etc.

[13]:

Rawlinson, III. Plate 66.

[14]:

Exodus xxi., 6.

[15]:

The Hebrew tradition, or rather dogma, of the divine origin of the Pentateuch is merely another way of saying that legal decrees represent the oracles furnished by the gods. Moses, to whom tradition ascribes the Pentateuch, is merely the instrument through which the laws are transmitted by Jahweh, just as Hammurapi is the mouthpiece of Shamash.

[16]:

§ 5 (col. vi., 6-30, ed. R. F. Harper).

[17]:

For further details see Peiser’s Introduction to his Keilin-schriftliche Aktenstücke; Kohler-Peiser-Ungnad, Aus dem Bdby-lonischen Rechtsleben (4 parts); and Hammurabis Gesetz (4 vols.).

[18]:

Whether instruction in clay modelling and in drawing on clay was included in the temple curriculum, as Hilprecht claimed, in a passage of his Explorations in Bible Lands , p. 527, may be questioned. The example that he gives of a supposed drawing of a bird on clay turns out to be a fragment of a stone vase, and the other “bird” on clay which he claims was discovered in the temple at Nippur appears to have flown away.

[19]:

See Andrae, Der Anu-Adad Tempel (Leipzig, 1909), and the Mitteilungen der Deutschen Orient-Gesellshaft, especially No. 22 seq. Much is also to be expected from C. S. Fisher’s work on Nippur (in course of publication), devoted to a careful study of the architecture of the walls and constructions unearthed in the course of the Nippur excavations, conducted by Messrs. Peters and Haynes.

[20]:

Sir Henry Rawlinson estimated the one at Borsippa to have been 140 feet high. Plate 23, Fig. 1.

[21]:

The general view among primitive people appears to have been that the expanse of heaven is not so very far from the earth. Hence the ambition to scale the heavens, which forms the basis of so many ancient myths. Even in the Biblical story of the building of the tower (Genesis, chap. xi.) which was to reach to heaven, the task is not viewed as an impossible one but as a wicked plan. Jahweh is afraid in fact lest the wicked plan may succeed; therefore he seeks to frustrate it by confusing the speech of the builders. See below, p. 298.

[22]:

See above, p. 68 seq.

[23]:

Book I., 181.

[24]:

The sanctuary on Mt. Zion is older than the settlement of the Hebrews. Jahweh dispossesses the god of Zion, just as his people dispossess the older settlers of Canaan. Jahweh wanders with his people, and though tradition continued to associate him with Mt. Sinai, to the later Hebrews Mt. Zion is Jahweh’s home.

[25]:

Thureau-Dangin, Sumerisch-Akkadische Inschriften, pp. 76, 84, 86, etc.

[26]:

Rawlinson, III. Plate 57, No. 6, 65.

[27]:

The only colours mentioned in astrological texts in connection with the planets are white for Jupiter or Mars, dark red for Mars, and black (or dark) for Mercury.

[28]:

See above, p. 284, note 1.

[29]:

This preference for the lower form of culture over the higher crops out in many tales of the Old Testament, which received their present form under the influence of the prophets. So, e.g., in the Cain and Abel story, Abel the keeper of flocks is preferred to Cain the tiller of the soil and the builder of cities. Viniculture—a higher form of agriculture—is condemned in the story of Noah. The Patriarchs are keepers of flocks, representing the higher type of nomads but lower than the agriculturists. When the Hebrews invaded Palestine and dispossessed the Ca-naanites, they became, as the Canaanites had been for generations, tillers of the soil. In this stage, agriculture is preferred to the higher form of culture represented by commerce. The Priestly Code, by prohibiting the taking of interest, puts its stamp of disapproval upon mercantile pursuits, which cannot be carried on without loans of money at a reasonable rate of interest. The Priestly Code is opposed to the establishment of a kingdom, and the additions to the Deuteronomic Code threaten the institution of the kingdom as a punishment for the sins of the nation.

[30]:

This spirit of opposition to huge structures is still prevalent among the natives of the Tigris and Euphrates districts, who look upon such endeavours as due to the instigation of Satan,

[31]:

The word sullām occurs only in this place (Genesis xxviii, 12) in the Old Testament; and the translation “ladder” is merely a guess. A more legitimate rendering would be “roadway,” and since the towers had, as above pointed out, a road winding to the top, sullām might have been applied to describe this “road,” and then the zikkurat itself. It should be noted that in Genesis chap. xi., two stories have been combined, one of the building of a city, the other of a tower. See the writer’s article “The Tower of Babel” above (p. 3, note 1) referred to.

[32]:

See Herzfeld’s monograph, Samarra (Leipzig, 1908). and the illustration. Plate 23, Fig. 2.

[33]:

Minaret signifies literally “light-house” or “light-tower.” Applied originally to the famous “light-tower” at Pharos, it was extended by analogy to the towers attached to the mosques.

[34]:

Andrae, Anu-Adad-Tempel, pp. 2 seq. and the illustration Plate 23, Fig. 1.

[35]:

See Thiersch, Pharos (Leipzig, 1909), chap. v.

[36]:

The campaniles or bell-towers of the Italian churches (see the illustrations in Thiersch, I.e., pp. 180-182), separated from them by a short distance, well illustrate the original relation of temple to tower in Babylonia and Assyria.

[37]:

See Andrae, Der Anu-Adad-Tempel in Assur (Leipzig, 1909), pp. 82 seq. There was, as Andrae has shown, an important variation in the interior arrangement of the Assyrian temples from that followed in Babylonia. Instead of an outer and an inner court of the same width, the inner court in Assyrian temples was narrow and long. This "departure from the Babylonian type may be due, as Andrae thinks, to Hittite or Syrian influence. See the illustrations on Plate 24.

[38]:

A publication of some forty clay bowls from Nippur is announced by Prof. J. A. Montgomery of the University of Pennsylvania.

[39]:

See above, p. 59.

[40]:

See Meyer, Geschichte des Altertums, ii., 1 pp. 344 seq., on the basis of Lehmann-Haupt, Zwei Hauptprobleme der Altoriental-ischen Chronologie, pp. 186 seq.

[41]:

See the writer’s paper “Did the Babylonian Temples Have Libraries?(Journal of the Amer. Oriental Society, vol. xxvi., pp. 173 seq.)

[42]:

Chiefly the texts published in Cuneiform Texts, Part XV.,Plate 10-23. See Zimmern, “Tammuz Lieder” (Berichte der Kgl. Sachs. Akad. d. JFm. Philol.-Histor. Classe , vol. lix., pp. 201-252); Langdon, Sumerian and Babylonian Psalms (Paris, 1909), and the various papers by J. D. Prince and Frederick Vanderburgh in the Journal of the American Oriental Society and in the American Journal of Semitic Languages.

[43]:

See above, p. 177.

[44]:

Knudtzon, Assyrische Gebete an den Sonnengott, pp.73, 74, etc.; and extracts also in Jastrow, Religion (German ed.),ii., pp. 300 seq.

[45]:

The technical term for these rites is Nam-Bur-Bi, on which see Behrens, Assyrisch-Babylonisch Briefe religiösen Inhalts, pp. 95-98, and Morgenstern, Doctrine of Sin in the Babylonian Religion, , pp. 137 seq.

[46]:

See the article “Shealotu-Teshubōth” in the Jewish Encyclopedia, vol. xi, pp. 240-250.

[47]:

See his paper, “A Chapter from the Babylonian Books of Private Penance,” in the Transactions of the 3d International Congress of the History of Religion (1908), vol. i., pp. 248 seq., and Introduction to his Sumerian and Babylonian Psalms (Paris, 1909).

[48]:

See the discussion on “Magic and Religion” in the 2d ed. of Frazer’s Golden Bough , vol. i., pp. 62 seq., and Andrew Lang’s reply in Magic and Religion , which though unfair (and at times offensive) in its tone against a scholar of such vastly superior erudition as Mr. Frazer, nevertheless refutes (as I believe) the position that magic preceded and is a distinct stage from religion. Whatever our definition of religion may be, the religious element is never lacking even in the most primitive form of magic. Magic is a very poor sort of a religion—but it is religious, though for the sake of human dignity one may be loath ta admit it.

[49]:

These terms, referring originally to the particular place where incantation rites were employed, became the designations of the formulas recited in those places.

[50]:

Maklû, Incantation Ritual, Tablet V., lines 166-184. See Jastrow, Religion , Engl, edition, pp. 287 seq., German ed., i., pp. 302-320.    .

[51]:

The god of fire.

[52]:

Also the god of fire.

[53]:

A collective name for the lower order of gods.

[54]:

An allusion to the bright light of the fire which is compared to the brilliant daylight.

[55]:

The god of heaven, an allusion to the sun as the heavenly fire.

[56]:

A frequent epithet of Enlil, the storm-god (see above, p. 68), who is the guardian of the lightning, another aspect of fire. In India, too, we find these three aspects of the fire—the earthly fire, the sun, and the lightning. See Hopkins, Religions of India , p. 105.

[57]:

Allusion to the fire as consuming the offerings on the altar.

[58]:

A reference to the sacrifices offered to Shamash, the Sun- god, through whom just decisions are granted.

[59]:

The instructions added to the formulas and prayers specify that the image is to be of honey, wax, tallow, pitch, clay, meal, of binu, or of cedar wood, or of copper, a different formula being prescribed for each material.

[60]:

Maklû, Incantation Ritual, Tablet VII., 115-120.

[61]:

The same association of cleanliness and godliness passes on to modern days, as, e.g., in Bishop Berkeley’s panacea of tar-water for all bodily ills, which was supposed to cleanse the mind as well as the body. See Fraser, Life and Letters of George Berkeley, pp. 292 seq.

[62]:

For other gods playing a more or less prominent part, see Morgenstern, Doctrine of Sin, chap. v.

[63]:

Shurpu, Incantation Ritual, Tablet II., 20-67. See Jastrow, Religion, Engl. ed., pp. 290 seq.; German ed., i., pp. 325 seq.

[64]:

I.e., Has he sown dissensions among the members of a family or among friends?

[65]:

I.e., is he a ruler who has exercised unnecessary cruelty?

[66]:

The exact meaning of the word used is not known.

[67]:

I.e., Has he cheated?

[68]:

I.e., Has he defrauded?

[69]:

Literally “entered”.

[70]:

Known as etimmu —which is the usual term for the shade of the departed—or utukku. For other names, see Morgenstem, Doctrine of Sin, p. 12.

[71]:

Utukku limnuti Ritual, Tablet V., col. ii., 65—iii., 25. See Thompson, Devils and Evil Spirits of Babylonia, i., pp. 62 seq.

[72]:

The mistress of the nether world, while Namtar is the god of pestilence.

[73]:

Same series, Tablet V., col. v., 38-57. Thompson, I.e., p. 76 seq.

[74]:

Tablet V., col. i., 25-39. Thompson, I.e., p. 52 seq.

[75]:

An interesting reference to a widespread custom in antiquity of having the new-born child received on the knees of the father. See Job iii., 12.

[76]:

More literally “house of washing.” See above, p. 302.

[77]:

Jewish Encyclopedia, vol. viii, p. 588.

[78]:

See above, p. 305, note 1.

[79]:

The common practice of tying knots to symbolise the tying of the witch or sorcerer, and untying knots to symbolise the release of the victim is also referred to in the Babylonian-Assyrian incantations

[80]:

E.g., 2 Kings xvi., 3; Ezek. xx., 31; cf. Lev. xviii., 21.

[81]:

Chantepie de la Saussaye, Religion of the Teutons, pp. 374 seq.

[82]:

Shurpu Incantation Ritual, Tablet V., 60-72.

[83]:

The fire-god.

[84]:

This wish, with which every section of this part of the ritual ends, appears to be an allusion to the “house of light” in which the ceremony took place.

[85]:

See Plate 25, Fig. 1. Frank, Babylonische Beschwdrungsreliefs (Leipzig, 1908), gave the correct interpretation of these monuments, which had hitherto been regarded as illustrations of the abode of the dead in the nether world.

[86]:

The more common designation for exorciser was ashipu. There were several classes, and the mashmashu appears to have been of a subordinate class. See Morgenstem, Doctrine of Sin in the Babylonian Religion , pp. 39 seq.

[87]:

See Morgenstem, Doctrine of Sin, pp. 120 seg

[88]:

See Morgenstern, Doctrine of Sin, pp. 122 seq.

[89]:

Leviticus xiv., 33-53.

[90]:

See especially the texts, Cuneiform Texts, xv., Plate 10-23, and cf. above, p. 279, and below p. 327, note 1.

[91]:

Morgenstern, Doctrine of Sin, pp. 146 seq.

[92]:

Above, p. 18.

[93]:

Cuneiform Texts, Part XV., Plate 12 and 13. Parallel text, Rawlinson IV. (2d ed.), 28*, No. 4, with partial Semitic translation.

See Langdon, Sumerian and Babylonian Psalms, pp. 292-295;
Babyloniaca, ii., pp. 275-81;
and F. A. Vanderburgh, Journal Amer. Oriental Society, vol. xxx., pp. 61-66.

[94]:

A designation of a part of E-Kur—perhaps the large court.

[95]:

The holy chamber of the temple.

[96]:

Note the juxtaposition of temple and palace.

[97]:

Some official structure—perhaps the temple granary.

[98]:

Here the insertion adapting the lamentation to Ur and Larsa is entered,

“To the brick construction of Ur return, look on thy city, To the brick construction of Larsa return, look on thy city.”

While in another version the adaptation for Sippar, etc., is made.

[99]:

I.e., Newly-wedded couples were not separated through the husband being obliged to go to war.

[100]:

Additional line in Rawlinson, IV. (2d ed.), 28*, No. 4.

[101]:

Another Jewish fast day, the 17th of Tammuz, though associated by Jewish tradition with the capture of Jerusalem by the Romans, is likewise much older and, in all probability, the old mourning festival for the youthful Tammuz (or Adonis), the god of spring, who at the end of the summer season is slain and carried to the nether world. See Jastrow, Religion (English ed.), p. 682, and the references there given.

[102]:

Celebrated on the 10th day of the festival month Tishri, but not mentioned in the pre-exilic codes of the Pentateuch. The combination with the Atonement day of a primitive ritual for exorcising sin marked by the Azazel ceremony (Leviticus, chap. xvi), suggests that it represents in part also the revival of an old nomadic festival that survives in some of the ceremonies incidental to the 10th day of the month of pilgrimage among the Arabs. See Wellhausen, Reste Arabischen Heidentums, p. 77.

[103]:

Cuneiform Texts , etc.. Part XIII., Plate 44-50.

[104]:

The first systematic study of this class of compositions was made by H. Zimmern, Babylonische Busspsalmen (Leipzig, 1885). Translations of the most important of them will be found in Jastrow, Religion , English ed., pp. 312-327, and of practically all known in the German edition, ii., pp. 62-134. While the age of these “personal” laments and confessions of sin cannot be determined, there is every reason to believe that they go back to an ancient period—though they are perhaps not so old as the public lamentation ritual. Many of them have come down to us in a double revision, in “Sumerian” with a “Babylonian” rendering, but it would appear that the “Sumerian” represents, in most if not in all cases, a retranslation from the Babylonian. The fact that such a retranslation was made points to the existence of penitential psalms of a personal character in Sumerian. The purpose of the retranslation was to provide a text in the ancient “Sumerian” that had acquired the position of a sacred tongue, and was considered the language in which the psalms should be recited, or at all events, that in which they should be couched.

[105]:

See Jastrow, Religion (German ed.), ii., p. 106.

[106]:

See Jastrow, Religion (German ed.) ii., pp. 85 seq. See also Reisner, Sumerisch-Babylonische Hymnen, No. 30.

[107]:

In another composition (Jastrow, Religion , ii., p. 76) we read:

“Food I have not eaten—weeping was my nourishment
Water I have not drunk—tears were my drink.”

[108]:

On this use of heart and liver for the mind and emotions see above, p. 151.

[109]:

Jastrow, Religion (English ed., pp. 321 seq., German ed., ii., pp. 102 seq.).

[110]:

Literally “known or unknow.”

[111]:

Rawlinson IV. (2d. ed.), 60.* A complete translation and study of the text will be found in the writer’s article, “A Babylonian Parallel to Job” (Journal of Biblical Literature , vol. xxv., pp. 135-191). See also Jastrow, Religion (German ed.),ii.,p. 121-133, and Jastrow, “A Babylonian Job,”  in Contemporary Review, December, 1906; also Martin, “Le Juste Souffrant Babylonien” (Journal Asiatique, 10 Series, vol. xvi., pp. 75-143), who embodies an additional fragment published by R. C. Thompson; and Landersdorfer, “Eine Babylonische Quelle für das Buch Job?” (Biblische Studien, xvi., 2).

[112]:

I.e., “I have grown old.”

[113]:

A commentary on the text puts it “like day and night.”

[114]:

One of the names of the lower world where the dead congregate. See below, p. 354.    

[115]:

See above, p. 215.

[116]:

See on this term, King, Babylonian Magic and Sorcery , p. xi. seq.

[117]:

King, Babylonian Magic and Sorcery, No. i. The prayer occurs as part of a text which contains also a prayer to Ishtar, and one to Tashmit.

[118]:

I.e., the decision whether he will show mercy or be angry.

[119]:

Here the name of the month and day is to be inserted.

[120]:

Zakar is called the “envoy” of the moon-god.

[121]:

Scheil, ĪJne Saison des Fouilles ā Sippar (Cairo, 1894), p. 104, No. 18. See also Combe, Histoire du Culte de Sin, pp. 124-26.

[122]:

Doughty, Arabia Deserta, vol. i., p. 366; ii., p. 305. The technical term for this rejoicing is hildl —on which see above, p. 214.

[123]:

The so-called Hallel psalms (Ps. 113-118) or portions of them.

[124]:

Cuneiform Texts, etc., Part xv., Plates 16,17. SeeLangdon,op. cit., pp. 296-299, and Combe, Histoire du Culte de Sin , pp. 107 seq.

[125]:

In other hymns the moon is also addressed as “self-created.”

[126]:

Temple of Sin (or Nannar) at Ur.

[127]:

I.e., the stars.

[128]:

The rest of the hymn is imperfectly preserved.

[129]:

See Zimmern, “Sabbath,” in Zeitschrift d. Deutsch. Morgenlānd Gesellschaft, vol. lviii., p. 200. In Lev. xxiii., 11 and 15, there is a trace of this usage in Hebrew.

[130]:

Both forms occur in Hebrew.

[131]:

Perry, Hymns to Sin, No. 5.

[132]:

An allusion to the frequently dark-red colour of the full-moon.

[133]:

For examples of such hymns see Jastrow, Religion, English ed., pp. 300-304, and German ed., i., pp. 426-436.

[134]:

See above, p. 125.

[135]:

Above, p. 95 seq.

[136]:

See the monograph of Koldewey, Die Pflastersteine von Aibur-schabu in Babylon (Leipzig, 1901), giving an account of the excavation of a part of this via sacra, the walls of which were lined with glazed and coloured tiles, portraying lions moving in procession. See Plate 30, Fig. 1.

[137]:

Ubshu-kennu.

[138]:

See articles “New Year” and “Atonement, Day of,” in the Jewish Encyclopædia, and S. Karppe in the Revue Sémitique, ii., pp. 146-151.

[139]:

On this term, see above, p. 298, note 1.

[140]:

See Zimmern, Der Babylonische Gott Tamuz, p. 6 (in the Abhd. Phil. Hist. Klasse d. Konigl. Sachs. Akad. d. Wiss ., No. xx.), where all the other designations under which the god appears are enumerated and discussed.

[141]:

So in the Jewish calendar up to the present day.

[142]:

See above, p. 321 seq.

[143]:

Cuneiform Texts, xv., Plates 20, 21. See Zimmern, Sumerisch-Babylonische Tamuzlieder , No. 4 (Berichte d. Phil. Hist. Klasse der Königl. Sächs. Akad. d.Wiss., vol. lix., pp. 22 seq.); Langdon, pp. 312-317; Prince, “A Hymn to Tammuz” in Amer. Joural of Semitic Languages, vol. xxvii., pp. 84-89. The beginning is defective.

[144]:

Known as Sirdu. The sister of Tammuz, Geshtin-Anna or in Babylonian Belit-seri, “lady of the field,” is also represented as bewailing the fate of her brother. See Zimmern, Der Baby-lonische Gott Tamuz, p. 14.

[145]:

An expressive gesture of deep grief.

[146]:

Rawlinson IV. (2d ed.), 30, No. 2. Zimmern, Tamuzlieder, No. 1; Langdon, op. cit., 304 seq.

[147]:

Zimmern, Der Babylonische Gott Tamuz, pp. 7 seq., from which it appears that Tammuz is designated by various names, as Ama-Ushumgal-Anna (“all ruling mother of heaven”), Ningishzida, and Kadi, which represent female deities.

[148]:

See p. 370 seq.

[149]:

See p. 354.

[150]:

The change from Tammuz to Ishtar is marked by the later designation of the 6 th month—once sacred to Tammuz (see above, p. 344)—as “the month of the descent of Ishtar.”

[151]:

Above, p. 344.

[152]:

Above, p. 313.

[153]:

See Frazer, Adonis, Attis , and Osiris, p. 8.

[154]:

Frazer, op. cit., 198 seq.

[155]:

To this Tammuz-Adonis myth, there have been added elements taken from the Roman Saturnalia and the Persian Sacaea festival. See Vollmer, Jesus und das Sacaeanopfer (Giessen, 1905), and other literature there referred to; also Frazer, Golden Bough , 2d ed., vol. iii., pp. 186 seq. It is perhaps well to add (in view of Andrew Lang’s elaborate criticism, Magic and Religion , pp. 76-204) that all these extraneous elements affect merely the form gradually assumed by the story of the death (or disappearance) of Jesus.

[156]:

Frazer, Adonis , Attis , and Osiris , pp. 165 seq. and 212 seq.

Like what you read? Consider supporting this website: