The Religion of Babylonia and Assyria

M >> Morris Jastrow >> The Religion of Babylonia and Assyria

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Shamash responds to the appeal:

Upon his hearing the lament of the serpent,
Shamash opened his mouth and spoke to the serpent:
Go and ascend the mountain;
The carcass of a wild ox make thy hiding-place.
Open him, tear open his belly.
Make a dwelling place [of his belly].
All the birds of heaven will come down;
The eagle with them will come down.

...

Upon penetrating to the meat he will hastily proceed,
Making for the hidden parts.[1035]
As soon as he has reached the inside,[1036] seize him by his wing,
Tear out his wing, his feather (?), his pinion,
Tear him to pieces, and throw him into a corner,
To die a death of hunger and thirst.

This devilish plan is successfully carried out. With considerable skill
the narrative describes how the eagle, suspecting some mischief, did not
join the other birds, but when he saw that they escaped without harm
felt reassured. He tells his brood:

Come, let us go and let us also pounce down upon the carcass of
the wild ox and eat, we too.

The eagle is again warned by his "very clever" offspring. The rest of
his brood join in the appeal, but

He did not hearken to them, and obeyed not the advice of his brood,
He swooped down and stood upon the wild ox.

Still, he is not entirely free from suspicion, and the narrative
continues:

The eagle inspected the carcass, looking carefully to the front and
behind him.
He again inspected the carcass, looking carefully to the front and
behind him.

Detecting nothing to justify his suspicions, he digs his beak into the
carcass, but scarcely has he done so when the serpent seizes hold of
him. The eagle cries for mercy, and promises the serpent a present of
whatever he desires. The serpent is relentless. To release the eagle
would be to play false to Shamash.

If I release thee ...
Thy punishment will be transferred to me.

Thus the serpent justifies what he is about to do. In accordance with
the instructions of the sun-god, the eagle is stripped of his wings and
feathers, and left to die a miserable death. In its present form this
tale of the eagle and serpent forms part of the Etana story.[1037]
Jeremias is right in questioning whether it originally had anything to
do with Etana.[1038] Two distinct stories have been combined, much as in
the Gilgamesh epic several tales have been thrown together. The
association of Etana with the eagle suggests the introduction of the
episode of the eagle's discomfiture. If one may judge of the two
episodes related of Etana, he is not a personage regarded with favor by
the compilers. In both episodes we find him in distress. His flight with
the eagle is regarded as a defiance of the gods, though more blame
attaches to the eagle than to him. Shamash can hardly have regarded with
favor the ambition of a human being to mount to the dwelling of the
gods. Gilgamesh makes no such attempt, and Parnapishtim is not carried
on high, but to "the confluence of the streams." Gilgamesh, it will also
be recalled, is unable to pass to the nether world where Eabani is
placed, and in the following chapter we will come across a tale intended
to illustrate the impossibility of any one ever returning from the
hollow under the earth where the dead dwell. The story of Etana appears,
therefore, to emphasize the equal impossibility for any mortal to ascend
to the dwelling of the gods. Etana is deified, but he belongs
permanently to the region where all mortals go after their career on
earth is ended,--the nether world. One gains the impression, therefore,
that Etana is a hero of antiquity who is not approved of by the
Babylonian priests. Similarly, the conflict between the eagle and the
serpent suggests an opposition to the view which makes the eagle the
symbol and messenger of Shamash. The eagle recalls the winged disc, the
symbol of Ashur,[1039] and the eagle occurs also as a standard among the
Hittites,[1040] with whom, as we know, the Babylonians came into
contact. The story of Shamash, himself, laying the trap for the eagle
looks like a myth produced with some specific intent, an illustration of
legitimate sun-worship against rival cults. As a matter of course, in
the case of such a myth, it is difficult to say where its popular
character ends and the speculative or scholastic theory begins. But
whatever may have been the original purport of the tale, for our
purposes its significance consists in the view unfolded of Shamash as
the one who wreaks vengeance on the evil-doer. Shamash appears in the
episode in the role of the just judge that characterizes him in the
hymns and incantations. Etana's reliance upon the eagle leads to
disgrace and defeat. In a representation of the hero's flight on a seal
cylinder,[1041] the disapproval of the act is indicated by the addition
of two dogs in a crouching position, their gaze directed towards the
bird. The dogs are a symbol of the solar-god Marduk.[1042]

The Legend of Dibbarra.

Of more direct religious import is a story recounted in a series
comprising five tablets of the deeds of the war and plague-god whose
name is provisionally read Dibbarra.[1043] He is a solar deity
identified in the theological system of the Babylonians with Nergal, but
originally distinct and in all probability one of the numerous local
solar deities of Babylonia like Nin-girsu and Nin-gishzida, Ishum and
others, whose roles are absorbed by one or the other of the four great
solar deities,--Shamash, Marduk, Ninib, and Nergal. Nergal representing
the sun of midday and of the summer solstice, which brings in its wake
destruction of various kinds, it was appropriate that a god who came to
be specifically viewed as the god who causes disease should be regarded
as an aspect of the terrible Nergal. In the legend that we are about to
consider, Dibbarra appears as the god of war. He is designated as the
'warrior.' The name of the god is written ideographically with a sign
that has the meaning of 'servant' and 'man.' To this sign the phonetic
complement _ra_ is added. In view of a passage in a lexicographical
tablet, according to which the name of the god is designated as the
equivalent of the god Gir-ra, Jensen concluded that the name was to be
read Gira, and Delitzsch[1044] is inclined to follow him. A difficulty,
however, arises through the circumstance that the element _Gir_ in the
name Gir-ra is itself an ideograph. In any case, the designation of the
god as a 'servant' shows that he is described here by an epithet,[1045]
and not by his real name, which is to be sought rather in the sense of
'strong,' that is one of the meanings of the ideograph _gir_. The
epithet 'servant' belongs to the period when the god took his place in
the theological system as one of the attendants of the great Nergal,
just as the plague-god is himself accompanied by a god Ishum, who acts
as a kind of messenger or attendant to him. It should be added that what
little evidence there was for the conventional reading Dibbarra[1046]
has now been dispelled, so that but for the desire to avoid useless
additions to the nomenclature of the Babylonian deities, the form Gir-ra
would have been introduced here, as for the present preferable.

Where the cult of Dibbarra centered we do not know, but that he presided
over a district that must have played a prominent part at some period of
Babylonian history is shown by the elaborate legend of his deeds for
which, as in the case of Gilgamesh and Etana, we are justified in
assuming an historical background. In fact, the legend of Dibbarra is
naught but a poetic and semi-mythical disguise for severe conflicts
waged against certain Babylonian cities by some rival power that had its
seat likewise in the Euphrates Valley.

Of the five tablets, but four fragments have as yet been found in such a
condition as to be utilized. The longest of these contains an address to
Dibbarra by his faithful attendant Ishum, in which the power of the
war-god is praised and some of his deeds recounted.

[The sons of] Babylon were (as) birds
And thou their falconer.
In a net thou didst catch them, enclose them, and destroy them,
O! Warrior Dibbara,
Leaving the city,[1047] thou didst pass to the outside,
Taking on the form of a lion, thou didst enter the palace.
The people saw thee and drew (?) their weapons.

The reference in these lines is to an attack upon the city of Babylon.
The war-god is pictured as striking out in all directions, imprisoning
the inhabitants of Babylon within the city walls, working havoc outside
of the city, and not stopping short at entering the palace. The metaphor
of the war-god taking on the form of a lion confirms the identification
of Dibbarra with Nergal, who is generally pictured as a lion.

In the following lines the enemy who makes this attack on Babylon is
introduced. He is designated as a 'governor,' and Dibbarra is
represented as giving him certain instructions to carry out. The title
'governor' given to this enemy may be taken as an indication that the
epic deals with the rivalry existing among the states of Babylonia, each
represented by its capital. Ishum continues his address to Dibbarra:

The heart of the governor, intent upon taking vengeance on Babylon,
was enraged,
For capturing the possessions of the enemy, he sends out his army,
Filled with enmity towards the people.

Dibbarra is represented as addressing this governor:

In the city whither I send thee,
Thou shall fear no one, nor have compassion.
Kill the young and old alike,
The tender suckling likewise--spare no one.
The treasures of Babylon carry off as booty.

Ishum continues his narrative:

The royal host was gathered together and entered the city.
The bow was strung, the sword unsheathed.
Thou didst blunt[1048] (?) the weapons of the soldiers,
The servitors of Anu and Dagan.
Their blood thou caused to flow like torrents of water through the
city's highways.
Thou didst tear open their intestines, and cause the stream to carry
them off.

Dagan is here used for Bel,[1049] and the phrase 'servitors of Anu and
Dagan' embraces the inhabitants of Babylon. Marduk, the lord of Babylon,
is enraged at the sight, but apparently is powerless.

The great lord Marduk saw it and cried "Alas!"
His senses left him.
A violent curse issued from his mouth.

At this point the tablet is defective, and when it again becomes
intelligible we find Ishum describing an attack of Dibbarra upon another
of the great centers of the Euphrates Valley--the city of Uruk. Uruk is
called the 'dwelling of Anu and Ishtar,' the city of the _Kizreti_,
_Ukhati_, and _Kharimati_[1050]--the sacred harlots. Uruk suffers the
same fate as Babylon:

A cruel and wicked governor thou didst place over them,
Who brought misery upon them, broke down (?) their laws.
Ishtar was enraged and filled with anger because of Uruk.

Her opposition, however, is as powerless to stem Dibbarra's attack as
was Marduk's grief at the onslaught on Babylon.

Dibbarra's greed is insatiable. Ishum continues his address to him:

O warrior Dibbarra, thou dost dispatch the just,
Thou dost dispatch the unjust,
Who sins against thee, thou dost dispatch,
And the one who does not sin against thee thou dost dispatch.

The following lines reveal the purpose of Ishum's long speech. A war
more terrible even than the conflicts recounted is planned by Ishum, one
that is to involve all creation and extend to the higher regions. Ishum
asks Dibbarra's consent to the fearful destruction held in view:

The brightness of Shul-pauddu[1051] I will destroy.
The root of the tree I will tear out
That it no longer blossom;
Against the dwelling of the king of gods, I will proceed....
The warrior Dibbarra heard him.[1052]
The speech of Ishum was pleasant to him as fine oil,
And thus the warrior Dibbarra spoke:
Sea-coast [against] sea-coast, Subartu against Subartu, Assyrian
against Assyrian,
Elamite against Elamite,
Cassite against Cassite,
Sutaean against Sutaean,
Kuthaean against Kuthaean,
Lullubite against Lullubite,
Country against country, house against house, man against man.
Brother is to show no mercy towards brother; they shall kill one
another.

The lines remind one of the description in the Gilgamesh epic of the
terror aroused by the deluge,[1053] and one might be tempted to combine
Dibbarra's speech with the preceding words of Ishum, and interpret this
part of the Dibbarra legend as another phase of the same nature myth,
which enters as a factor in the narrative of the Deluge. However, the
continuation of Dibbarra's speech shows that a great military conflict
is foretold. The countries named are those adjacent to Babylonia, and
the intention of the writer is evidently to imply that the whole world
is to be stirred up. This fearful state of hostility is to continue
until

After a time the Akkadian will come,
Overthrow all and conquer all of them.

Akkad, it will be recalled, is a name for Babylonia. The triumph of
Babylon is foretold in these lines. The Akkadian is, therefore, none
other than Hammurabi, who succeeds in obtaining the supremacy over the
entire Euphrates Valley, and whose successors for many centuries claimed
control of the four quarters of the world.

It is evident from this 'prophecy' that the Dibbarra legend received its
final shape under influences emanating from Babylon, precisely as we
found to be the case in the 'creation' story and in the Gilgamesh epic.
The hostility that precedes the coming of Hammurabi points to the
violence of the conflicts in which that warrior was engaged, while the
exaggeration of this hostility shows how strong and permanent the
impression of Hammurabi's achievements must have been. The designation
of the conqueror as the Akkadian gives him to a certain extent the
character of a Messiah, who is to inaugurate an era of peace, and whose
coming will appease the grim Dibbarra. It is by no means impossible that
Hebrew and Christian conceptions of a general warfare which is to
precede the golden age of peace are influenced by the Babylonian legend
under consideration.

Dibbarra gives his consent to Ishum's plan:

Go, Ishum, carry out the word thou hast spoken in accordance with thy
desire.

Ishum proceeds to do so. The mountain Khi-khi is the first to be
attacked.

Ishum directed his countenance to the mountain Khi-khi.
The god Sibi,[1054] a warrior without rival,
Stormed behind him.
The warrior[1055] arrived at the mountain Khi-khi.
He raised his hand, destroyed the mountain.
He levelled the mountain Khi-khi to the ground.
The vineyards in the forest of Khashur he destroyed.

In a geographical list[1056] a mountain Khi-khi, belonging to the
Amoritic country, is mentioned, and a mountain Khashur described as a
cedar district. There can be, therefore, no doubt that some military
expedition to western lands is recounted in our tablet. The continuation
of the narrative is lost, all but a small fragment,[1057] which tells of
the destruction of a city--otherwise unknown--called Inmarmaru. At the
instigation of Dibbarra, Ishum enters this city and destroys it. The
outrages committed are described at some length. Ea, the god of
humanity, hears of the havoc wrought. He is 'filled with wrath.'
Unfortunately, the fragment is too mutilated to permit us to ascertain
what steps Ea takes against Dibbarra. Marduk is also mentioned in this
connection. Under the circumstances, one can only conjecture that in the
missing portions of this tablet, and perhaps also in two others, the
wars preceding the advent of the Akkadian[1058] are recounted in poetic
and semi-mythical form. If this conjecture is justified, the main
purport at least of the Dibbarra legend becomes clear. It is a
collection of war-songs recalling the Hebrew anthology, "Battles of
Yahwe,"[1059] in which the military exploits of the Hebrews were
poetically set forth.

The closing tablet of the Dibbarra legend is preserved,[1060] though
only in part. It describes the appeasement of the dreadful war-god. All
the gods, together with the Igigi and Anunnaki, are gathered around
Dibbarra, who addresses them:

Listen all of you to my words.
Because of sin did I formerly plan evil,
My heart was enraged and I swept peoples away.

He tells how he destroyed the flocks and devastated the fruits in the
fields, how he swept over the lands, punishing the just and the wicked
alike, and sparing no one. Ishum takes up the strain and urges Dibbarra
to desist from his wrath:

Do thou appease the gods of the land, who were angry,
May fruits (?) and corn[1061] flourish,
May mountains and seas bring their produce.

The era of peace and prosperity is thus inaugurated, and the legend
closes with solemn assurances from Dibbarra that he will bless and
protect those who properly honor him.

He who glorifies my name will rule the world.
Who proclaims the glory of my power
Will be without a rival.
The singer who sings [of my deeds] will not die through pestilence.
To kings and nobles his words will be pleasing.
The writer who preserves them will escape from the grasp of the enemy.
In the temple where the people proclaim my name
I will open his ear;[1062]
In the house where this tablet is set up, though war[1063] may rage,
And god Sibi work havoc,
Sword and pestilence will not touch him--he will dwell in safety.
Let this song resound forever and endure for eternity.
Let all lands hear it and proclaim my power.
Let the inhabitants of all places learn to glorify my name.

This closing address represents a late addition to the poem that
somewhat modifies its original import. Wars did not cease with the
establishment of Babylon's control. Many conflicts arose, but on the
whole, Babylonia was an empire of peace. The people were inclined
towards a life of ease, and the development of commerce served as a
wholesome check against too frequent military disturbances. The
war-songs, as a glorification of the nation's past, retained their
popularity, but the lesson drawn from the songs was the great blessing
that peace and freedom from turmoil brought with them. For the warlike
Assyrians, Dibbarra enraged may have been a more popular figure, but to
the peace-loving Babylonian, the appeased Dibbarra appealed with greater
force. The story of Dibbarra's deeds became in this way in the course of
time an object lesson, a kind of religious allegory handed down from one
generation to the other as an illustration of the horrors of war and of
violence in general. With the tendency--so characteristic of the
Babylonian religion[1064]--for great gods to absorb the roles of minor
ones, Nergal became the god of war _par excellence_, while Dibbarra,
Ishum, and Sibi were chiefly viewed as powers responsible for such forms
of violence as pestilence and distress. To ensure the favor of a god of
pestilence was of importance for every individual, and one of the safest
means of obtaining this favor was to sing his praises, to recall his
power,--to glorify him and thus to keep him, as it were, in good humor.
What better means of accomplishing this than to have the record of his
deeds constantly before one's eyes? The British Museum contains two
specimens of tablets on which a portion of the Dibbarra legend is
inscribed, and which are pierced with holes in a manner as to leave no
doubt[1065] that the tablets were intended to be hung up in houses with
a view of securing protection from Dibbarra and his associates. The
reference in the closing lines of the story:

The house where this tablet is set up,

thus becomes clear. As the Hebrews were commanded, in order to secure
the protection of Yahwe, to write his law

On the doorposts of the house,[1066]

so the Babylonians were instructed by their priests to hang tablets in
their homes--probably at the entrance--on which Dibbarra was glorified.
Naturally, it was impossible to inscribe the whole story on a little
tablet, just as it was impossible to place the entire law of Yahwe on
the doorposts. In both cases a significant extract served as a part,
representative of the whole. In the case of the Dibbarra legend, the
closing portion was selected, which emphasized the necessity of keeping
the deeds of Dibbarra and the greatness of his power in mind. Like the
Gilgamesh epic, so the Dibbarra legend was to be taught by the father to
his son. The scribes were enjoined to teach the story to the people. The
poets were to make it the subject of their songs, and kings and nobles
were not exempt from the obligation to listen to the tale.

The Myth of the Storm-God Zu.

Birds and bulls were to the Babylonians the symbols of storms and
clouds. In the Gilgamesh epic, it will be recalled, Anu sends a divine
bull to engage in a contest with Gilgamesh.[1067] The text of the epic
being unfortunately defective, we have no definite indication of the
character of the attack to be made upon the hero by the messenger from
the god of heaven; but since storms and disease are the two chief
weapons in the hands of the gods, and inasmuch as Gilgamesh in a later
section of the epic is struck down by disease, it is more than likely
that the bull represents a storm that is to sweep the hero and his
companion off the earth. The winged bulls placed at the entrance of
palaces embody the same idea, and in addition to the explanation for
these fantastic figures above[1068] suggested, it is noteworthy that the
two types of animals chosen for this symbolical decoration of edifices,
the bull and the lion, again illustrate the same two means at the
disposal of the gods for the punishment of man, the bull representing
the storms, and the lion being the symbol of Nergal, who is the god of
pestilence, as well as of war and of violent destruction in general.

A storm-god symbolized under the form of a bird is Zu. The underlying
stem of the word conveys the notion of strength and violence. How bulls
came to be chosen as symbols of storms is not altogether clear. Possibly
the element of "strength" formed the connecting link in the chain of the
association of ideas. In the case of birds, on the other hand, the
association is to be sought in the appearance of the clouds during a
storm moving across the heavens like a flock of birds. In the Etana
legend, a reference occurs to Zu, who, as it would appear, is unable to
escape from the control of the supreme judge Shamash.[1069] Zu is there
called the chief worker of evil--a kind of arch satan. A story has been
found which illustrates an attempt made by the bird Zu to break loose
from the control of the sun. A storm was viewed as a conflict between
the clouds and the sun, much as an eclipse symbolized a revolt in the
heavens. The myth represents the conflict as taking place between Zu and
En-lil, the Bel of Nippur. The latter holds in his possession the
tablets of fate, by means of which he enjoys supreme authority over men
and gods. Zu's jealousy is aroused, and he plans to tear these tablets
from En-lil. The tablets of fate, it will be recalled, play an important
part in the Marduk-Tiamat episode.[1070] Kingu--the symbol of chaos,
like Tiamat--wears them on his breast, but he is obliged to yield them
to the conqueror of Tiamat and of her brood, who replaces 'chaos' by
'order.' This conqueror was originally Bel of Nippur, and the Zu myth in
representing En-lil as holding the tablets of fate confirms the view
above set forth,[1071] according to which the original Tiamat tale has
been modified by the substitution of Marduk for the old Bel. But the
story, while thus admitting the legitimacy of En-lil's claim to supreme
power, is yet so constructed as to contribute to the glory of Marduk.
The attack of the Zu-bird was suggested--as the Tiamat myth--by the
annual storms that work such havoc in Babylonia. The forces of 'chaos'
are let loose, and an attempt is made to overthrow the 'order' of the
world, symbolized by the tablets of fate which En-lil holds in his
possession. Whoever has these tablets is invincible. But En-lil is
unable to resist the attack of Zu. The tablets are taken away from him,
and it is left for Marduk to recapture them. The tablets once in
Marduk's possession, En-lil's supremacy comes to an end, and the triumph
of Marduk is complete. To substantiate this interpretation of the myth,
an analysis of the text is necessary. The beginning of the story is
unfortunately missing. It appears to have been devoted to a
glorification of the god who controls the fate of the universe. The
second column opens as follows:

And the oracles of all the gods he determined.

From the context it is clear that Bel of Nippur is meant. Up to this
point, the myth reflects the old view according to which it was En-lil
who succeeded in overcoming Tiamat or at any rate, in snatching the
tablets of fate from the breast of Kingu. Nippur's god lays claim to
being the one who established 'order' in the universe. His authority
could only be threatened if he were robbed of the tablets which
symbolize absolute control over the course of affairs. Zu boldly
attempts this: