http://www.mormonapologetics.org/blog/d ... owentry=53
In a recent on-line discussion with a critic concerning the divine council, the individual raised a series of objections to claims I have made regarding humanity, gods, and the Divine Concil. I felt comfortable with all of the responses I offered with the exception of the critic’s concerns regarding kingship versus divinity in the ancient Near East.
I’m actually quite interested in the issue at hand and appreciate the concerns raised by the critic in as much as they provide an opportunity to present further clarification of my views concerning this fascinating subject. The following information presents a preliminary attempt to respond to the critic’s concerns. Much more information will be forthcoming.
In response to the issue that mainstream Biblicists maintain that the expression “Sons of God” in the Hebrew Bible always refers to the gods of the divine council, the critic raised a few interesting issues:
The kings in the ANE were often called “the image of God” who served as representatives for deity, but they were still quite human as evidenced by their deaths.
This issue, of course, is much more complicated than the critic assumes. In reality, ancient Near Eastern views concerning kingship are really quite diverse. While some Near Eastern kings simply served as mere “representatives for deity,” others were clearly presented as gods themselves.
In ancient Mesopotamia, for example, the portrayal of kings as gods represents an important view manifested in the Ur III time period (the Neo-Sumerian dynasty of 2112-2004 BCE).
Cuneiform tablets from the previous Akkad dynasty identify the beginning of Mesopotamian deification among the Sargonic kings. In the textual remains, the Semitic kings Sargon, Rimuš, Man-ištušu do not appear deified; Narâm-Sin, Šar-kali-šarri occasionally appear deified; and the later kings Lilul-dan, Dudu, Šu-Durul once again, do not appear deified; see William W. Hallo, Early Mesopotamian Royal Titles: A Philologic and Historical Analysis (New Haven: American Oriental Society, 1957): 60.
Though scholars have yet to definitively identify the precise reason for this new theological/political innovation, J. N. Postgate has effectively summarized the consensus:
"Whatever the precise theological implications of [Narâm-Sin’s] elevation to divinity, a change that was marked by his adoption of the divine determinative before his name, it can be explained quite simply on one level. Deities exercised different functions, supplying a conceptual classification of natural and social phenomena… the innovation is surely connected with the new territorial entity over which Narâm-Sin presided; being a fresh creation, it had no patron deity, and what could be more natural than to install its creator in that role" J. N. Postgate, “Royal Ideology and State Administration in Sumer and Akkad,” Civilizations of the Ancient Near East; 1: 401,
This important move by Narâm-Sin towards deification had important implications for the monarchs of the Ur III dynasty who appear to have generally associated their own kingship with a move towards deification.
When writing their names, the Ur III rulers used a dingir sign that signifies that the King was a god. In addition to the use of the divine determinative in personal names, evidence for the deification of Ur III kings includes the presentation scene depicted on Ur III cylinder seals. In the words of Henri Frankfort:
"In one respect the seals of the Third Dynasty of Ur show a completely new departure. Among the gods worshipped there now appear the deified kings. Repeatedly a subject, especially a high official, pays homage on his seal to his enthroned lord, and is introduced to the august presence by an interceding goddess exactly as in religious scenes of presentation;" H. Frankfort, Cylinder Seals: A Documentary Essay on the Art and Religion of the Ancient Near East (London: The Gregg Press Limited, 1939): 146.
Together with this important iconographic evidence, the literary remains of Ur III contain examples of individual prayers addressed to a deified king:
To my king with varicolored eyes who wears a lapis lazuli beard,
speak;
to the golden statue fashioned on a good day,
the… raised in a pure sheepfold, called to the pure womb of Inanna,
the lord, hero of Inaana, say:
Thou (in) judgment thou art the son of Anu,
Thy commands, like the word of a god, cannot be turned back
Thy words like rain pouring down from heaven without number,
Thus says Urshagga, thy servant:
My king has cared for me, who am a ‘son’ or Ur.
If now my king is (truly) of Anu,
let not my father’s house be carried off,
let not the foundations of my father’s house be torn away.
Let my king know;
Sumerian Petition as translated by S.N. Kramer in Ancient Near Eastern Texts Relating to the Old Testament; ed. James B. Pritchard (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1969), 382.
Not only were the Neo-Sumerian kings gods, but also even the king’s death was a much more complicated issue than the critic realizes.
In an important administrative text concerning royal affairs following king Shulgi’s death, the Ur III monarch clearly had participated in a celestial ascent:
"19 full-fledged female workers [and] 2 female workers with a two-thirds (daily) work capacity were released for 7 days on the day [divine] Shulgi ascended to heaven. [These, being the equivalent of ] 142 one-third female workers for 1 day, were expended from [the work unit] of Anana. Month of the Mekigal Festival [=eleventh month]. The year Kharshi and Kimash were destroyed [= Shulgi’s forty-eight year] (emphasis added); Jacob Klein, “Shulgi of Ur: King of a Neo-Sumerian Empire,” Civilizations of the Ancient Near East; 2: 855.
Following the king’s demise, many economic texts from the Ur III period record offerings presented to “Shulgi of Heaven” see Ibid.
Therefore, not all kings died in a traditional human manner and not all kings were seen as only "representatives" of the gods. Some, as evidenced through the Ur III time period, where clearly portrayed as divine beings.
In an attempt to prove that the title “son of God’ does not need to refer to gods but can refer to human beings, the same critic drew attention to the notion that in ancient Ugarit “King Krt, a distinctly human ruler in the Ugaritic texts, is also described as bn il, “son of God.”
The critic is correct that as a “Canaanite” king, King Kirta is described as a “son of El.” The problem, however, with the critic’s claim is that as illustrated in the Ur III traditions, to refer to ancient Near Eastern kings as “distinctly human rulers” is really a highly problematic assertion.
Some were, yes. But certainly not all.
Not only were the Ur III kings distinctly gods, evidence suggests that the Ugaritic kings were also distinctly gods.
I believe that this view has been successful argued by renowned Ugaritologist Nicholas Wyatt; see especially Nicholas Wyatt, “Degrees of Divinity: Some Mythical and Ritual Aspects of West Semitic Kingship,” Ugarit-Forschungen 31:1999 and Nicolas Wyatt, “Interpreting the Creation and Fall Story in Genesis 2-3,” Zeitschrift Fur Dei Alttestamentliche Wissenschaft (1981).
In reference to my observation that gods in Near Eastern tradition can die and that even Baal himself experiences death, the critic suggests that “Bokovoy is guilty of 1) dishonesty or 2) ignorance.”
As evidence for this assertion, the critic provides the following quote:
According to Mark Smith, who is a leading authority on the Ugaritic texts:
“In Ugarit even deities who are said to be dead are not permanently so...Baal does not remain permanently dead, for never in the Ugaritic texts is divine death a permanent condition.” (Mark Smith, The Origins of Biblical Monotheism, 98)
Smith said that whenever deities are called “dead” in Ugarit, this means “defunct,” but that it was never a permanent state. That is what set humanity apart from gods. So when a human king dies, there is no doubt to an ANE mind that a deity he was not.
So either David is trying to deceive us, or he really isn’t getting a quality education as he so often claims.
Which is it?
Either way the implications are the same: he cannot be trusted to provide that “objective” scholarship for which he harshly criticizes Evangelical scholarship. His is an extreme bias of a different color.
Admittedly, the death of a god is somewhat unusual, hence the statement addressed to the deities in Psalm 82, “you shall die like men;” for men typically do die, whereas gods generally speaking retain eternal life.
It is wrong to suggest, however, that when gods do die in Near Eastern traditions that the gods are somehow not truly dead. Drawing upon analogies from the ancient Near East illustrates the problematic nature of the critic’s views.
In the Babylonian story Enuma Elish, for instance, the primordial mother goddess Tiamat created the god Qingu as chief deity over Tiamat’s military forces. As a result of his actions taken against the divine council, the deities of the assembly “bound [Qingu] and held him in front of Ea, [and they] imposed the penalty on him and cut off his blood.”
In the myth, Qingu did not return. From the rebellious god’s death, humanity emerged.
The same is true for Baal.
Some scholars have questioned the reading in which Baal literally dies via a decent into the netherworld. De Moor, for example, argued for a notion that Baal had a “twin brother,” who descended into the Netherworld as a substitute for Baal. Therefore, according to De Moor, Baal had somehow successfully cheated death.
In my opinion, the most important study of these issues to date is Tryggve N.D. Mettinger, The Riddle of Resurrection: The Dying and Rising Gods in the Ancient Near East (Stockholm: Almquvist & Wiksell International, 2001).
Mettinger provides an extremely helpful summary of the main arguments raised by those who would not consider Baal a true dying deity. Mettinger concludes, “on further analysis… it seems that Baal himself actually did die.” (pg. 59).
Mettinger lays out the argument for this view on pages 59-66. Amongst the passages that Mettinger quotes as describing Baal’s death include the lines:
You must be counted among those who go down
into the earth, and the gods will know that you are dead.
“The reaction among the gods,” writes Mettinger, “also amounts to a clear indication that Baal is really dead. A long section describes in detail how El and Anat perform the mourning rites for Baal; the implication is that he is dead… the epic sequence is thus morning—burial—funerary sacrifices—successor. Baal is dead!” (Ibid. 62).
Clearly Baal does receive a resurrection with the assistance of Anat (the whole portrayal, in fact, may represent themes explored in Psalm 24). However, I believe that Baal’s death and resurrection provided not only a description of the cyclical weather pattern (for Baal was indeed a weather god), but that the cycle also provides a type and symbol for the dying and resurrected God king in Ugaritic theology.
The critic relies upon a brief statement presented by a very important scholar, namely Mark Smith.
Personally, I believe that one of Mark Smith’s most significant contributions to Ugaritic studies includes his observation that the fate of Baal is modeled on the perceived fate of the Ugaritic kings described in KTU 1.161.
According to Smith, “Baal is being modeled on the perceived fate of the Ugaritic kings who descend to the Underworld; in their case, they may temporarily come to life… Baal’s death reflects the demise of Ugaritic kings, but his return to life heralds the role of the living king to provide peace for the world” Marks Smith, “The Death of Dying and Rising Gods in the Biblical World. An Update,” SJOT (1998): 286, 307f.
So if Smith’s theory is correct, then the god kings of Ugarit were believed to have a special connection with the Baal Cycle. So despite the critic’s attempt to suggest that I was wrong to link the death of Baal with the death of Ugaritic divine kings, even the source upon which the critic relies presents similar (though admittedly not the precise) views that I hold.
One of the challenges in trying to understand ancient Near Eastern thought concerning these issues is that in reality, a rigid demarcation between gods and humanity is simply not attested. The gods act like humans, and human act like gods. As witnessed in ancient Ugarit and the Ur III traditions, sometimes humans even were considered gods themselves.
Despite this fact, the critic draws attention to the Epic of Gilgamesh, stating:
What we know from Gilgamesh is the clear dichotomy between humanity and the gods:
When the gods created humanity
They assigned death to humanity
But life they kept in their own hands
Who, my friend can scale heaven?
Only the gods live forever under the sun
As for humanity their days are numbered
Whatever they do is wind
How kings were able to cross that divide is a mystery given the rule above.
It is wrong to insinuate, however, that the views presented in Gilgamesh represent the standard Near Eastern perspective. They do not. Contrary to the critic’s assertion, the statement regarding humanity versus the gods is not a “rule.” It is the view presented in the Epic of Gilgamesh, but is not the rule for Near Eastern thought.
In fact, I believe that when properly understood, the Epic of Gilgamesh, in part, serves as a polemic directed against the views of divine kingship witnessed in the Ur III time period.
In the Ur III time period, the way “kings were able to cross that divide” is really not a "mystery." This move towards divine kingship in the Ur III dynasty clearly relates to the tradition of hieros gamos or the sacred marriage ritual between king and goddess; for a recent survey of the hieros gamos see Pirjo Lapinkivi, The Sumerian Sacred Marriage in Light of Comparative Evidence (Helsinki: The Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 2004)
Though some scholars assume that this rite derives from the Old Sumerian period in Uruk, most of the relevant texts concerning the hieros gamos derive from the Ur III and Isin-Larsa period; see for example S. N. Kramer, The Sacred Marriage Rite (London, 1969); and T. Jacobsen, “Notes on Nintur,” Orientalia 42 (): 125f.
In his important survey, J. Cooper notes that “sure evidence for ritual copulation between goddess and ruler exists only for the Ur III and Isin kingdoms”; Jerrold S. Cooper, “Sacred Marriage and Popular Cult in Early Mesopotamia,” Official Cult and Popular Religion in the Ancient Near East; ed. Eiko Matsushima (Heidelberg: Universitatsverlag C. Winter, 1993): 83.
To date, two Sumerian hymns have been discovered that provide graphic descriptions of the sacred marriage of a named king in the specific guise of Dumuzi; see Ibid. 84-85.
“This explicit evidence for a sacred marriage ritual celebrated by the kings of Ur and Isin justifies interpreting a range of other material from these dynasties as implicit evidence for the same ritual.” Ibid.
At present, all evidence indicates that the Ur III monarch participated in the ritualized role of Dumuzi by cohabiting with the goddess Inanna played by an important female participant. In the sacred ritual, the woman always took the leading role. According to G. Leick this common theme “may have been inspired by the polygynous nature of aristocratic households, where the concubines and wives vied for the attention of their ‘master.’”; Gwendolyn Leick, Sex and Eroticism in Mesopotamian Literature (London: Routledge, 1994): 147.
In the textual remains, it is always Inanna who initiates the sexual encounter that seems to have transformed the earthly king to a divine status.
In his classic treatise concerning the role of kingship in the ancient Near East, Henri Frankfort suggested that the sexual act between king and goddess directly contributed to the monarch’s acquisition of the role of deity:
"It may well be that only those kings were deified who had been commanded by a goddess to share her couch. In a general way the kings who use the divine determinative before their names belong to the same period as the texts mentioning the marriage of kings and goddesses; and we have seen that some kings adopted the determinative, not at the beginning, but at a later stage of their reigns. If we assume that they did so on the strength of a divine command, we remain within the normal scope of Mesopotamian thought, while the view that the king should have presumed of his own accord to pass the barrier between the human and the divine conflicts with everything we know of Mesopotamian beliefs;" Henri Frankfort, Kingship and the Gods: A Study of Ancient Near Eastern Religion as the Integration of Society and Nature (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1978), 297.
Though Frankfort may have exaggerated the connection between the deification process and the sacred marriage, clearly, the evidence supports the general assumption that the king—whether figuratively or literally, participated in a sexual act that effectively lead to a transformation in status or position.
As Kuhrt notes, “through this sexual act [the king] approached the world of the gods more closely than other mortals and ensured the continuing beneficent partnership between humanity and the divine sphere.; Kuhrt, 70.
Frankfort’s general view can be supported by the fact that all evidence suggests that kings from the Old Babylonian period no longer participated in the sacred marriage ritual.
With its deified kings and its use of the hieros gamos motif, the Ur III dynasty had a tremendous cultural impact on subsequent views concerning apotheosis. These issues addressed in the Ur III period concerning divine kingship and the role of sexuality as a rite of passage provide one of the major structural themes witnessed in the present form of the Epic of Gilgamesh.
The Epic of Gilgamesh contains a series of stories devoted to an exploration of kingship, mortality, and the meaning of human existence. As Abusch seems to correctly explain, through the course of the epic, “Gilgamesh the god learns what Gilgamesh the man already knows: Gilgamesh must reconcile himself to and live with his basic humanity in order to be a man in this world and a god in the next.”; Tzvi Abusch, “Ishtar’s Proposal and Gilgamesh’s Refusal: An Interpretation of the Gilgamesh Epic, Tablet 6, Lines 1-79,” History of Religions 26/2 (1986): 187.
In connection with this general theme, the story in its present form, particularly tablet six of the standard version, seems to contain a polemic against the views of kingship associated with the Ur IIII dynasty. Yet perhaps the first indication that the authors of EG were aware of the issue of the deification of Sumerian kings appears in tablet one of the standard version. For readers familiar with the tradition of divine kingship in the Ur III dynasty, the epic makes clear that unlike these previous Sumerian kings, Gilgamesh is not fully divine:
Gilgamesh was his name from the day he was born,
Two-thirds of him god and one third human (Lines 47-48)
The account clearly suggests that notwithstanding Gilgamesh’s partial divinity, there was no one who could “rival his kingly standing, and say like Gilgamesh, ‘It is I am the king” (Line 45-46). A subtle reference to the sacred marriage festival may have occurred in the conclusion to the standard version, which describes the celebration of Utnapishtim’s workmen in a manner reminiscent of the traditions specifically associated with the Akitu festival:
For my workmen I butchered oxen,
And lambs I slaughtered daily,
Beer and ale, oil and wine
Like water from a river [I gave my] workforce,
So they enjoyed a feast like the days of New Year. (XI: 71-75)
However, the connection between the Epic of Gilgamesh and the rite of sacred marriage are most transparent in tablet six, which recounts the tale of Ishtar’s proposal and Gilgamesh’s denial.
The city of Uruk provides the setting for the story. The account commences with a description of Gilgamesh cleaning his body, setting aside his dirty clothes, and vesting in royal attire:
Casting aside his dirty gear he clad himself in clean,
Wrapped cloaks around him, tied with a sash.
Then did Gilgamesh put on his crown (VI: 3-5).
By finishing his description of the ritual vestment scene with a reference to Gilgamesh downing a royal crown, the author seems to prepare his readers for a traditional hieros gamos affair; for an analysis of the bathing since that highlights the erotic qualities of the episode see Neal Walls, Desire, Discord, and Death: Approaches to Ancient Near Eastern Myth (Boston: American Schools of Oriental Research, 2001): 34-35.
In a manner consistent with the Ur III literature linked with the sacred marriage ritual, Ishtar clearly assumes the role of the seductress. It is she who initiates the invitation to copulate:
On the beauty of Gilgamesh Lady Ishtar looked with longing:
‘Come, Gilgamesh, be you my bridegroom!
Grant me your fruits, O grant me!
Be you my husband and I your wife! (VI: 6-9)
The opening lines of Gilgamesh’s response establish a connection between sacred marriage, deification, and kingship:
[And if indeed I] take you in marriage…
[Would you feed me] bread that is fit for a god,
[and pour me ale] that is fit for a king? (VI: 24-28).
The question Gilgamesh proposes to Ishtar concerning her previous lovers seems to also relate to the divine kingship theory from the Ur III dynasty:
What bridegroom of yours did endure for ever?
What paramour of yours went up [to the heavens?]
For an Ur III audience, the answer to Gilgamesh’s question would have been obvious: Shulgi! Recall that in the important administrative text already cited concerning royal affairs following Shulgi’s death, the Ur III monarch clearly had participated in a celestial ascent:
"19 full-fledged female workers [and] 2 female workers with a two-thirds (daily) work capacity were released for 7 days on the day [divine] Shulgi ascended to heaven. [These, being the equivalent of ] 142 one-third female workers for 1 day, were expended from [the work unit] of Anana. Month of the Mekigal Festival [=eleventh month]. The year Kharshi and Kimash were destroyed [= Shulgi’s forty-eight year] (emphasis added)."
Since the Sumerians generally believed that their dead descended into the netherworld, Shulgi’s celestial ascent would have certainly sparked extraordinary interest
Contrary to this tradition, the author of tablet VI assumes that none of Ishtar/Inanna’s lovers “went up [to the heavens],” including the great Shulgi. Instead, Ishtar’s lovers suffered the consequences of her dangerous embrace:
‘Come, let me tell [you the tale] of your lovers:
of…… his arm.
Dumuzi, the lover of your youth,
year upon year, to lamenting you domed him.
You loved the speckled allallu-bird,
but struck him down and broke his wing…
You loved the lion, perfect in strength,
but for him you dug seven pits and seven.
You loved the horse, so famed in battle,
but you made his destiny a seven-league gallup…
You loved the shepherd, the grazier, the herdsman,
who gave you piles of loaves baked in embers,
and slaughtered kids for you day after day.
You struck him and turned him into a wolf,
now his very own shepherd boys chase him away,
and his dogs take bits at his haunches.
You loved Ishullanu, your father’s gardener,
who used to bring you dates in a basket,
daily making your table gleam.
You eyed him up and went to meet him:
‘O my Ishullanu, let us taste your vigor:
Put out your hand and stroke my quim!’ (VI: 44-69)
The meaning of Ishtar’s lovers has received considerable comment. However, since Ishtar’s invitation relates to the sacred marriage ritual, one could argue that the author intended each of the lovers to represent Ur III monarchs who were known to have participated in the sexual rite.
With the possible exception of the allallu-bird, the names given to each of Ishtar’s lovers clearly serve as divine epithets with deified kings from the Ur III era. For examples, in the text, Shulgi King of the Road, the Ur III monarch receives the following epithets:
I am a fierce-face lion…
I am a shepherd…
I am the powerful king of Nanna,
I am the growling lion of Utu,
I am Shulgi, who has been voluptuously chosen by Inanna…
I am a horse, waving its tail on the highway… Shugli, the King of the Road,” lines 1-25 as translated by J. Klein, in Three Shulgi Hymns (Ramot-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 1981), 85.
Clearly this text should be considered in an analysis of Ishtar’s lovers. As the king who had been “voluptuously chosen by Inanna,” Shugi is described in the text as a lion, a shepherd, and a horse. Ishtar’s final paramour Ishullanu, the gardener, can also be interpreted as a type for the divine king, who “used to bring [Ishtar] dates in a basket.”
Several important examples of Mesopotamian iconography feature a depiction of the tree or plant of life, over which the king and priests appear pouring libations. In his important assessment of the connection between Mesopotamian kings and gardeners, Widengren combined these representations with the Tammuz text R IV 27 No. I:
A tamarisk which in the garden has no water to drink,
Whose foliage on the plan sends forth no twig.
A plant which they water no more in its pot,
Whose roots are torn away.
A herb which is in the garden has no water to drink…
Among the flowers of the garden he sleeps,
Among the flowers of the garden he is thrown.
According to Widengren, “the Tree of Life is watered by the king, who pours out over it the Water of Life which he has in his possession; the Tree of Life constantly needs the Water of Life near which it is growing in the garden of paradise.”; Geo Widengren, The King and the Tree of Life in Ancient Near Eastern Religion (Uppsala: Uppsala Universitest Arsskrift, 1951): 15.
Apparently, the connection between king and gardener was widely attested throughout ancient Mesopotamia. This portrayal of kingship appears in the birth legend of Sargon wherein the monarch declares:
Akki, the waterscooper, placed me as his gardener.
When I was a gardener Ishtar was in love with me.
The kingship I exercised during x + 5 years.
These lines from the tale of Sargon, the gardener whom Ishtar loved, seem to provide an especially important parallel with the story of Ishullanu. This evidence bolsters the view that Ishtar’s proposal represents a sacred marriage.
The EG contains additional evidence to support the view that the authors were not only aware of but actually rejected the heiros gamos. Tablet II of EG, as recounted on the Pennsylvania tablet (late 18th century BCE), seems to describe Gilgamesh’s preparations for an unsuccessful sacred marriage in Uruk.
In Uruk they held regular festivals of sacrifice,
young men made merry, set up a champion:
For the fellow whose features were fair,
for Gilgamesh, like a god, was set up a rival.
For the goddess of weddings the bed was laid out,
Gilgamesh met with the maiden by night. (P 190-199)
Significantly, in these lines from tablet two of the Old Babylonian edition of the epic, the heiros gamos does not take place. At the moment Gilgamesh intended to enter the arms of his divine wife, “forward came (Enkidu)… blocking the path of Gilgamesh” (P Lines 200-201).
Therefore, the Pennsylvanian tablet, shares the same conclusion witnessed in tablet VI of the standard version: Gilgamesh does not participate in the sacred marriage. If these stories do indeed contain a polemical view, it may be meaningful that the Old Babylonian edition of the epic that originally featured the P tablet was known in antiquity as “Surpassing all other Kings.”
In his important analysis of tablet VI, Abusch convincingly demonstrates that Ishtar’s proposal veils a description of death, entombment, and descent to the Netherworld.; See Abusch, “Ishtar’s Proposal.”
“In proposing marriage,” states Abusch, “Ishtar offers to enhance Gilgamesh’s identity while at the same time depriving him of it; her proposal to Gilgamesh is an offer of power; it is also an offer to transfer his living self into his dead self.”; see Ibid. 174.
If Abusch’s reading is correct, then the sexual encounter between Gilgamesh and Ishtar would reflect the heiros gamos for the Ur III period, in the sense that Gilgamesh would receive divinity, however, the consequence of such divinity would ultimately incur the exact opposite effect that it had for Shulgi and his successors. Whereas Shulgi ascended, Gilgamesh would experience a different sort of journey. This reading seems to relate to the basic use of intercourse in EG as a rite of passage.
Throughout EG, sex serves as a rite of passage that transforms individuals to a new status. This thematic element appears with Gilgamesh and the young men/women of Uruk; Enkidu and Shamhat; and Gilgamesh and Ishtar; For a treatment concerning sex as a type of rite of passage in EG see Tzvi Abusch, “The Courtesan, the Wild Man, and the Hunter: Studies in the Literary History of the Epic of Gilgamesh,” to appear in the Jacob Klein Festschrift, 413-433.
In each of these episodes, the new role assumed through sexuality seemly necessitates the abandonment of previous spheres. Thus just as sex with Inanna allowed for the Ur III monarch to move from king to god, so sex with Ishtar would have allowed Gilgamesh to change from earthly monarch to underworld deity, etc. As it did with the kings of Ur III, Ishtar’s marriage proposal in EG constitutes an invitation to Gilgamesh to become divine.
The result however of this divinity was surely an unpleasant prospect.
It is clearly incorrect that any Near Eastern tradition serves as the “rule.” As I have illustrated in this final section, in its rigid distinction between human death and living gods, the Epic of Gilgamesh may simply be responding to earlier views concerning god kings in ancient Mesopotamia.
In a future post, I will attempt to illustrate the important implications that these concepts have for interpreting concepts featured in the Hebrew Bible.