¹ Cf. especially my detailed review of Frankfort, Wilson, Jacobsen, and Irwin's “Intellectual Adventure of Ancient Man” (1946) in JCS (Journal of Cuneiform Studies), 2, pp. 39–70. This divergence of views results not so much from differences in translation and interpretation of the texts themselves, as from opposing psychological appraisals of the minds of the ancients. Because our primary source material for Sumerian philosophy and theology are myths rather than philosophic essays, scholars tended to confuse the metaphysician with the theologian, though by and large they are poles apart psychologically and temperamentally. The mythographers were scribes and poets whose main concern was the glorification and exaltation of the gods and their deeds. Unlike the philosophers they were not interested in discovering cosmological and theological truths; they accepted the current theological notions and practices without worrying about their origin and development. The aim of the myth makers was to compose a narrative poem in an effort to explain one or another of these notions and practices in a manner that would be appealing, inspiring, and entertaining. They were not concerned primarily with proofs and arguments directed to the intellect; their first interest was in telling a story that would appeal primarily to the emotions. Their main literary tools, therefore, were not logic and reason, but imagination and fantasy. In telling their story, these poets did not hesitate to invent motives and incidents patterned on human action which could not possibly have any basis in reasonable and speculative thought, nor did they hesitate to adopt legendary and folkloristic motifs that had nothing to do with rational cosmological inquiry and inference.

It was this failure to distinguish between the Sumerian mythographer and philosopher which confused some of the modern students of ancient Oriental thought and led them to both under- and overestimate the minds of the ancients. On the one hand, they argued, the ancients were mentally incapable of thinking logically and reflecting intelligently on cosmic problems. On the other hand they were blessed with an intellectually “unspoiled” mythopeic mind, which was somehow naturally profound and intuitive and which could therefore penetrate cosmic truths far more perceptively than the modern mind with its analytic and intellectual approach. Which, by and large, is just stuff and nonsense. The more mature and reflective Sumerian thinker had the inherent mental capacity of thinking logically and coherently on any problem, including those concerned with the origin and operation of the universe. His stumbling-block was the dearth of scientific data at his disposal. Moreover he lacked such fundamental intellectual tools as definitions and generalizations, and had practically no insight into the processes of growth and development, since the principle of evolution which seems so obvious now that it has been discovered, was entirely unknown to him. Just so, no doubt, in some future day, with the continued accumulation of new data and the discovery of hitherto undreamt of intellectual tools and perspectives, the limitations and shortcomings of the philosophers and scientists of our own day will become apparent. There is this significant difference, however: modern thinking man is usually prepared to admit the relative character of his conclusions and is sceptical of all absolute answers. Not so the Sumerian thinker; he was no doubt convinced that he had the truth “by the tail,” and that he knew exactly how the universe was created and operated.

² In short it has to a certain extent the semantic range of the Hebrew ruach.

³ For the origin and nature of the luminous bodies, moon, sun, planet, and star, there is practically no direct evidence at all. But from the fact that as far back as our written sources go, the Sumerian considered the moon-god, known by the two names, Sin and Nanna, to be the son of the air-god Enlil, it is not unreasonable to infer that they thought of the moon as a bright, air-like body which was fashioned in some way from the atmosphere. And since the sun-god Utu, and the Venusgoddess Inanna are always referred to in the texts as children of the moon-god, the probability is that these two luminous bodies were conceived as having been created from the moon after the latter had been fashioned from the atmosphere. This is also true of the remaining planets as well as the stars, which are described poetically as “the big ones who walk about (the moon) like wild oxen,” and “the little ones who are scattered about (the moon) like grain.”

⁴ For fuller details cf. my SM (Sumerian Mythology), pp. 30–75 and JCS, 2, PP. 43–44.

⁵ The Sumerian myths illustrate vividly the anthropomorphic character of the Sumerian gods: even the most powerful and most knowing among them were conceived as human in form, thought and deed. Like man they plan and act, eat and drink, marry and raise families, support large households and are addicted to human passions and weaknesses. By and large they prefer truth and justice to falsehood and oppression, but their motives are by no means clear, and man is often at a loss to understand them. They were thought to live on the “mountain of heaven and earth,” “the place where the sun rose,” at least presumably when their presence is not necessary in the particular cosmic entities over which they had charge. Just how they travelled is by no means certain from the available data; the sun-god in a chariot or, according to another version, by foot; the storm-god, on the clouds; other gods, by boat. But the Sumerian thinkers seem not to have troubled themselves too much with such “practical” and “realistic” problems. And so we are not informed just how the gods were supposed to arrive at their various temples and shrines in Sumer, and in what fashion they actually did perform such human activities as eating and drinking. The priests presumably saw of course only their statues, which they no doubt tended and handled with great care. But just how the stone, wooden and metal objects were to be conceived as having bone, muscle, and the breath of life — this kind of question never occurred to them. Nor did the Sumerian thinkers seem to be troubled by the inherent contradiction between immortality and anthropomorphism — although the gods were believed to be immortal, they nevertheless had to have their sustenance: could become sick to the point of death; fought, wounded, and killed, and presumably could themselves be wounded and killed. No doubt our Sumerian sages developed numerous theological notions in a futile attempt to resolve the inconsistencies and contradictions inherent in a polytheistic system of religion. But to judge from the available material they probably never wrote them down in systematic form and we will therefore never learn much about them. In any case it is hardly likely that they resolved many of the inconsistencies. What saved them from spiritual and intellectual frustration was no doubt the fact that many a question which, according to our way of thinking, should have troubled them, never came to their minds.

⁶ Behind this axiomatic assumption of the Sumerian theologian no doubt lay a logical if perhaps unformulated inference, since he could hardly have seen any of the human-like beings with his own eyes. Our theologian took his cue from human society as he knew it, and reasoned of course from the known to the unknown. He noted that lands and cities, palaces and temples, fields and farms, in short all imaginable institutions and enterprises are tended and supervised, guided and controlled by living human beings; without them lands and cities become desolate, temples and palaces crumble, fields and farms turn to desert and wilderness. Surely, therefore, the cosmos and all its manifold phenomena must also be tended and supervised, guided and controlled by living beings in human form. But the cosmos, being far larger than the sum total of human habitations, and its organization being far more complex, these living beings must obviously be far stronger and ever so much more effective than ordinary humans. Above all they must be immortal; otherwise the cosmos would turn to chaos upon their death and the world would come to an end, alternatives which for obvious reasons did not recommend themselves to the Sumerian metaphysician. It was each of these invisible, anthropomorphic, but at the same time superhuman and immortal beings which the Sumerian designated by his word dingir and which we translate by the word “god.”

⁷ Cf. especially Arno Poebel in his “Historical Texts” (Publications of the Babylonian Section of the University Museum, IV, part i), p. 24 ff. and JCS, 2, pp. 47–48, note 16.

⁸ In short, another superficial but evidently not altogether ineffective answer to the insoluble cosmological problems, which merely hid the fundamental difficulties from view with the help of largely meaningless words. In the case of the me's governing man and his culture, we actually have considerable direct evidence of their supposed number and character. For fortunately for us, one of the ancient Sumerian poets, in the course of comparing or redacting one of his myths, found it desirable to actually list all these cultural me's. He therefore divided civilization as he knew it into over one hundred elements. Unfortunately only some sixty-odd are at present intelligible, and even of these some are only bare words which because of lack of context give but a hint of their real significance. Nevertheless enough remains to show the character and import of this first recorded attempt at culture analysis resulting in a considerable list of what are now generally termed culture traits and complexes; as will be seen, these consist of various institutions, priestly offices, ritualistic paraphernalia, mental and emotional attitudes, as well as sundry beliefs and dogmas. Cf. for the present SM, pp. 64–68.

⁹ For one such hymn, cf. e.g. Falkenstein, in Von Soden and Falkenstein's “Sumerische und Akkadische Hymnen und Gebete” (1953), pp. 102–109; for the myths and epic tales, cf. e.g. SM, pp. 82–83 and JAOS, 64, p. 15.

¹⁰ I stress the beneficent features of Enlil's character in order to correct a misconception which has found its way into practically all handbooks and encyclopedias treating Sumerian religion and culture, that Enlil was a violent and destructive storm deity whose word and deed practically always brought nothing but evil. As not infrequently happens, this misunderstanding is due largely to an archaeological accident. For it happened that among the earliest Sumerian compositions published, there were an unusually large proportion of lamentation type, in which of necessity Enlil had the unhappy duty of carrying out the destruction and misfortunes decreed by the gods for one reason or another. As a result he was stigmatized as a fierce and destructive deity by earlier scholars and he has never lived this down. Actually, when we analyze the hymns and myths, some of which have been published only in recent days, we find Enlil glorified as a most friendly fatherly deity who watches over the safety and well-being of all humans, and particularly of course over the inhabitants of Sumer. Cf. also JCS, 2, pp. 53–55.

¹¹ The Istanbul piece has now been copied by Hatice Kizilyay, one of the Turkish curators of the Tablet Collection of the Museum of the Ancient Orient, and published in vol. 16 of the “Belleten” of the Turk Tarih Kurumu, plates LXI and LXII. For further details concerning the text of this hymn, cf. ibid. pp. 358–359, and particularly note 12. For an additional Enlil hymn, cf. now Falkenstein, loc. cit., No. 11, but not 12; cf. my review in Bibliotheca Orientalis, 11, pp. 170–176.

¹² For additional details, cf. JCS, 2, p. 43, note 6, p. 47, note 16, and pp. 55–56. For the myths involving Enki, cf. SM passim, and especially “Enki and Sumer” (better “Enki and the World Order”), ibid., pp. 59–63. For an Enki hymn, cf. now Falkenstein, loc. cit., No. 22.

¹³ Cf. especially JCS, 2, pp. 47–48, note 16.

¹⁴ For two myths in which Ninhursag plays a dominant rôle, cf. “Enki and Ninhursag: A Sumerian ‘Paradise’ myth” in Supplementary Studies No. 1 of the Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research, and “Creation of Man” in SM, pp. 68–72.

¹⁵ Cf. now my “Sumerian Historiography” in Israel Exploration Journal, 3, pp. 227 ff.

¹⁶ Cf. “Ur-Nammu Law Code” in Orientalia, NS 23, pp. 40–51.

¹⁷ Cf. now Ancient Near Eastern Texts (edited by James B. Pritchard), pp. 159–161.

¹⁸ Cf., for the present, Falkenstein, loc. cit., Nos. 16–28.

¹⁹ Cf. in particular the hymn published by Henri de Genouillac in Textes Religieux Sumériens, No. 79 (from the Kassite or even Neo-Babylonian, not “Isin” period), and Lutz, Selected Sumerian and Babylonian Texts (PBS I, part 2), No. 118 (obv. and rev. to be interchanged), and several unpublished duplicates in the University Museum.

²⁰ Cf., for the present, University Museum Bulletin, Vol. 16, No. 2, pp. 30–34.

²¹ Cf. “‘Man and His God’: A Sumerian Variation on the ‘Job’ Motif” in Vetus Testamentum, Supplements, Vol. III (“Festschrift” dedicated to H. H. Rowley), pp. 170–182.