Mesopotamia

Scholars of Mesopotamian religion are satisfied to consider Sumerian and Akkadian data jointly (van der Toorn, “God,” 356). This essay will follow that convention. A forward slash (/) distinguishes Sumerian/Akkadian deity names.

Both the Sumerian (DINGIR) and Akkadian (ʾilu) words for deity (“god”) are identified by the cuneiform sign for “star.” However, Mesopotamian deities are not all (or even mostly) astral in nature. Nevertheless, the celestial orientation is noteworthy. As van der Toorn notes, Mesopotamian gods are also associated with the Underworld realm deep beneath the earth. Consequently, in Mesopotamian culture the gods were considered beings who dwelt in regions impossible (or improper) for human habitation (van der Toorn, “God,” 356). The realms of divine habitation were accessible to humans upon death or in special circumstances when allowed (or manipulated) by the gods. It should also be noted that there was no special term to distinguish a god from what modern Western peoples would think of as a divine messenger (“angel”). Meier (“Angel,” 46) notes:

“Supernatural messengers in other ancient Near Eastern cultures typically are identified by the lexical item in that language also used to identify human messengers or subordinates sent on missions (Sumerian kin-gi4-a, sukkal; Akkadian mār šipri; Egyptian wpwty; Ugaritic ǵlm, mlʾak; Ethiopic malʾak). There is therefore no specially reserved term to distinguish a class of such gods from other gods on the one hand or from human messengers on the other.”

What modern, Western readers think of as “angels” and “demons“—beings that are not gods and, therefore, “intermediate” beings between God and humans—does not reflect Mesopotamian thinking (or any ancient Near Eastern system) in an ontological sense. “Intermediate” beings are only conceived as “lesser” in role and rank within the comprehensive pantheon:

“As there is no general term for “demon,” cuneiform texts can use the sign DINGIR (“god”) also for demons, meaning that within the cosmological and theological context “demons” are closer to gods than men. Therefore they act from the divine sphere and interfere with humans, but can also act as divine messengers, which sometimes gives them a function comparable to angels … The Mesopotamian “pantheon” with its main gods is hierarchically structured, and divine beings of a lesser rank are “demons” or protective spirits. Their function and might are more limited than that of the [main] gods” (Hutter, “Demons,” 21, 23).

The point is that “messengers” in the religion of Mesopotamia (and Egypt, Canaan, etc.) are not a separate, subordinate class of being. “Messenger” terminology used in ancient Near Eastern languages in essence denotes a task or job description of a god. The task, not ontology, is the indicator of subordination (a higher-ranking deity is being obeyed and served). The same is true in the Hebrew Bible, with the twist that Yahweh was considered unique among all divine beings (see below under “Israel”).

As noted above, only certain Mesopotamian gods were identified with or as celestial objects (e.g., sun [Shamash], moon [Nanna], Venus [Inanna/Ishtar]). The logic is not mysterious. Celestial objects moved (or were perceived to move) in regular patterns that governed day, night, seasons, and time. Consequently, such objects were deemed living entities or under the power of said entities. In other words, the activity of the celestial heavens needed explanation. Other deities were associated with natural phenomena, catastrophes, and the ordering of creation itself (compare Assmann’s “cooperative cosmology”). These effects, detectable in normal human experience, were presumed to have a non-human, non-terrestrial cause.

Gods transcended humanity in other ways as well, thereby contributing to how a Mesopotamian would define or describe a god. Mesopotamian gods (like the gods of other cultures’ pantheons) were quite often anthropomorphized. For example, they had wives and children, were responsible for certain duties, and expressed themselves with very human emotions. But while the Mesopotamian gods might have human form, their anthropomorphized attributes were exaggerated. Gigantic size, vast intelligence, impenetrable wisdom, prodigious strength, everlasting longevity, excessive sexual prowess, etc. marked the anthropomorphized deity as exceeding humanity in every way. A god was an entity whose life and ability were incomparable relative to humans. In effect, the gods were superhuman.

Aside from inhuman size, the appearance of gods distinguished them from mere mortals in another respect. Gods were typically luminous. As van der Toorn (“God,” 357) remarks:

“Size, beauty, power and vitality combine to constitute the melammu which the gods exude. This melammu is conceived of materially as an invisible raiment endowing the gods with a terrifying lustre. Every being endowed with melammu is a god or like a god” (Enuma Elish I 138; II 24; III 28).

Gods were distinguished from humans by a strict, unalterable relational hierarchy: The gods had decided to create humankind to serve and provide for them, relieving the gods of labor and self-sustenance (see e.g., “The Song of the Hoe”). By definition, then, the gods were superior and to be serviced, honored, and obeyed.

With respect to each other, the Mesopotamian gods worked cooperatively (or competitively) in maintaining justice and order in the cosmos and on earth. The noted Sumerologist Thorkild Jacobsen referred to the workings of the Sumerian/Mesopotamian gods in their pantheon assembly as a “primitive democracy” (Jacobsen, “Primitive Democracy,” 159–72). He writes:

“The Sumerians and Akkadians pictured their gods as human in form, governed by human emotions, and living in the same type of world as did men. In almost every particular the world of the gods is therefore a projection of terrestrial conditions … The assembly which we find in the world of the gods rested on a broad democratic basis; it was, according to the Adad myth in CT, XV, 3, an ‘assembly of all the gods.’ Nor was participation limited by sex: goddesses as well as gods played an active part in its deliberations.

“The leadership of the assembly belonged by right, it would seem, to An, god of heaven and ‘father of the gods’; but with him or alone appears also Enlil, god of the storm. An or Enlil usually broached the matters to be considered … the discussion which followed would be largely in the hands of the so-called ila rabiatum, the ‘great gods’ or, perhaps better, ‘the senior gods,’ whose number is said to have been fifty” (Jacobsen, “Primitive Democracy,” 167–68).

Local government in Mesopotamia might have reflected the egalitarian democratic relationships between the gods, as most Mesopotamian deities were venerated in at least one of Mesopotamia’s major towns. Each locale had a temple in which its favored deity (god or goddess) was worshiped and serviced. Some Assyriologists have noted with interest how the system was henotheistic and, in some cases, almost monolatrous in the sense that a given locale’s priesthood treated the city deity as the only deity worthy of their worship. The polytheistic system was ultimately tolerant. When the control of Mesopotamian cities changed hands due to regional conflict, the god of the conquering city was worshiped as the more powerful, but worship of the other gods continued (Prince, “GOD,” 251).

Kings were considered nearest to the life of the gods. This is no surprise given that, according to the Sumerian king list, “kingship was lowered from heaven” (Pritchard, ANET, 265) by the gods. Kings were put in power to control the masses and make sure the gods were serviced. (In other cultures, political and religious responsibilities were more divided between kings and priests). Mesopotamian kings also bore the title of “god.” There is evidence that kings referred to themselves as gods directly (e.g., a seal of Naram-Sin reads “the god of Akkad”) or indirectly, via theophoric elements in personal names (e.g., Hammurabi-ili: “Hammurabi-is-my-god”; van der Toorn, “God,” 359).

Some unusual features and controversial research related to the Mesopotamian conception of deity deserve mention.

First, the still controversial first line of Atrahasis reads: “When gods were man” (inūma ilū awı̄lum; Foster, “Atra-ḫasis,” 450). Commenting on the work of Lambert to explicate the meaning, van der Toorn writes:

“… The myth looks upon death as a postdiluvial institution … After the apotheosis of the flood hero … the gods brought death into the world … The very point of difference between humans and gods, then, is accidental rather than essential; it was not there from the beginning. According to this view, the separation between the two realms has been a gradual process: there once was a Golden Age, before the Flood, when gods and humans moved in the same world” (van der Toorn, “God,” 360).

Thus, for Mesopotamians, a god was a luminous super-human entity whose privileged domain became inaccessible to humans. Originally, the gods created humans to do the work they found undesirable, and the two co-existed on earth. The punishment of humanity with the flood brought forth death, widening the gap between the gods and humanity.

Second, some Mesopotamian deities are known to be related to each other in triads. Enlil, Anu, and Enki were considered the supreme triad due to their role in creation (Nötscher, “Enlil,” 382–87). Shamash, Sin, and Ishtar formed a second triad. The respective domains of these three deities perhaps point to the three-tiered universe so common in ancient Near Eastern cosmology: the high god Anu occupies the celestial heavens, Enlil’s domain is the atmosphere—the air humans breathe and where birds fly—and Enki governs the landed earth/apsû, the ocean under the earth. The second triad in turn represented three great lights in the sky: the sun (Shamash), the moon (Sin), and Venus (Ishtar), the morning and evening star.

Far more speculative is the opinion of Assyriologist Simo Parpola, who argues that “Christianity with its doctrine of the Trinity, God the Father, the Holy Ghost, Unity of the Father with the Son, etc., [are] all … derived from the Assyrian religion and philosophy” (Parpola, “Assyrian,” 190n107). Moreover, Parpola argues that the biblical notion of God presiding over a heavenly council of divine beings is evidence that Assyrian religion was monotheistic. This is an unusual twist, since so many scholars argue (incorrectly) the reverse, that the idea of a divine council means the theology of the Hebrew Bible was at one time polytheistic. Other Assyriologists have strongly criticized Parpola’s views (e.g., Cooper, “Assyrian,” 2000).

The presence of two distinct triads alone (as well as the absence of the incarnation) indicates that the Mesopotamian material is not the basis for the biblical Trinity. The triadic relationships are more logical or pragmatic than theological. Mesopotamian texts have produced more than three thousand deity names. Most are organized as households or extended families, something quite in keeping with the anthropomorphic trajectory so evident in Mesopotamian religion (Bienkowski and Millard, Dictionary, 131).

Third, some scholars consider Mesopotamian religion to have moved toward monotheism, a notion prompted by the eventual reduction in deities. The most extreme example of this coincides with the rise of Marduk as chief deity in Babylon. In Enuma Elish Marduk battled and destroyed Tiamat, a goddess-dragon who is the divinized ocean. Marduk split Tiamat’s body and created the world (the heavens and earth) from her carcass. The other gods then assigned 50 names to Marduk and established him as their king. This myth has been characterized by some as monotheistic since the 50 gods (their names) are in effect subsumed in Marduk. However, there is no data that suggests the Mesopotamian pantheon had by that time been trimmed to only 50 deities. That number (not coincidentally) was associated with the god Enlil, whom Marduk supplanted. Therefore, this story and act better symbolize Marduk’s elevation in the pantheon, not the dissolving of the pantheon into one deity. While we might logically look at Mesopotamian religion and presume that, since even the fundamental elements of the material world were referred to as gods, there lurked behind that mythological history some ultimately transcendent power who brought those elemental gods into existence, Mesopotamian religion does not articulate that idea.