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Unlike the rich corpus of ancient Egyptian funerary texts,
no such “guidebooks” from Mesopotamia
detail the afterlife and the soul’s fate after death. Instead, ancient
Mesopotamian views of the afterlife must be pieced together from a variety of
sources across different genres.
Many literary texts, most famously the Epic of Gilgamesh, contemplate the meaning
of death, recount the fate of the dead in the netherworld, and describe
mourning rites. Other texts were probably composed in order to be recited
during religious rites involving ghosts or dying gods. Of these ritual texts,
the most notable are Gilgamesh, Enkidu and the Netherworld; Ishtar’s Descent to the Netherworld;
and Nergal and Ereshkigal. Further sources for Mesopotamian afterlife beliefs
include burials, grave inscriptions,
economic texts recording disbursements for funerals or cults of the dead,
references to death in royal inscriptions and edicts, chronicles, royal and
private letters, lexical texts, cultic commentaries, magico-medical texts,
omens, and curse formulas.
In addition to belonging to different genres, the sources
for Mesopotamian beliefs in the afterlife come from distinct periods in
Mesopotamian history and encompass Sumerian, Akkadian, Babylonian, and Assyrian
cultures. We should therefore be careful not to view Mesopotamian afterlife
beliefs as static or uniform. Like all cultural systems, Mesopotamian ideas of
the afterlife transformed throughout time. Beliefs and practices relating to
the afterlife also varied with socio-economic status and differed within
official and popular religious paradigms. With this in mind, however, cultural
continuity between the Sumerian civilization
and its successors allows a synthesis of diverse sources in order to provide a
working introduction to Mesopotamian concepts of the afterlife.
The Netherworld
Ancient Mesopotamians conceptualized the netherworld as the
cosmic opposite of the heavens and as a shadowy version of life on earth.
Metaphysically, it was thought to lie a great distance from the realm of the
living. Physically, however, it lay underground and is poetically described as
located only a short distance from the earth’s surface.
Literary accounts of the netherworld are generally dismal.
It is described as a dark “land of no return” and the “house which none leaves
who enters,” with dust on its door and bolt (Dalley 155). Yet other accounts
moderate this bleak picture. For instance, a Sumerian work referred to as the
Death of Urnamma describes the spirits of the dead rejoicing and feasting upon
the ruler Urnamma’s arrival in the netherworld. Shamash, the sun god of
justice, also visited the netherworld every night on his daily circuit through
the cosmos. Similarly, scholar Caitlín Barrett has proposed that grave
iconography – specifically symbolism related to the goddess Inanna/Ishtar who descended and
returned from the underworld — indicates a belief in a more desirable afterlife
existence than the one described in many literary texts. Although humans could
not hope to return to life in exact imitation of Inanna/Ishtar, Barrett argues,
by utilizing funerary iconography representing Ishtar, they could seek to avoid
the unpleasant aspects of the netherworld from which Inanna/Ishtar herself had
escaped. The Mesopotamian netherworld is therefore best understood as neither a
place of great misery nor great joy, but as a dulled version of life on earth.
One of the most vivid portrayals of the netherworld
describes a subterranean “great city”
(Sumerian "iri.gal") protected by seven walls and gates where the
spirits of the dead dwell. In the Akkadian Descent of Ishtar to the Underworld,
Ishtar passes through these seven gates on her journey to the netherworld. At
each gate she is stripped of her garments and jewelry until she enters the city
of the dead naked. In light of such descriptions, it is perhaps notable that
Mesopotamian funerary rites for the elite could last up to seven days.
The community of spirits living in the “great city” was
sometimes called Arallu in Akkadian or Ganzer in Sumerian, terms of uncertain
meaning. Sumerian Ganzer is also a name for the underworld and an entrance to
the underworld. Paralleling the Mesopotamian idea of divine authority in heaven
and earth, the realm of the dead was governed by particular deities who were
ranked in hierarchical order with a supreme chief at their head. In older texts
the goddess Ereshkigal (“Mistress of the Great Earth”) was queen of the
Netherworld. She was later replaced by the male warrior god Nergal (“Chief of
the Great City”). An Akkadian myth dating at latest to the mid-second
millennium BCE attempts to resolve the conflicting traditions by making
Ereshkigal the spouse of Nergal. Like the deities in heaven who met regularly
in a divine council to render judgments for the universe, the divine rulers of
the underworld were assisted in their decisions by an elite body of divinities
called the Anunnaki.
It must be emphasized that the Mesopotamian netherworld was
not a “hell.” Although it was understood as the geographic opposite of the
heavens, and although its environment was largely an inversion of heavenly
realms (for instance, it was characterized by darkness instead of light), it
did not stand opposite heaven as a possible dwelling place for dead spirits
based on behavior during life. The Mesopotamian netherworld was neither a place
of punishment nor reward. Rather, it was the only otherworldly destination for
dead spirits whose bodies and graves or cult statues had received proper ritual
care.
Human Nature & Fate after Death
In the Old Babylonian Atrahasis epic, the gods created
humans by mixing clay with the blood of a rebellious deity named We-ilu who was
specially slaughtered for the occasion. Humans therefore contained both an
earthly and a divine component. Yet the divine element did not mean that humans
were immortal. The Mesopotamians had no concept of either physical resurrection
or metempsychosis.[4] Rather, Enki (Akkadian Ea), the Sumerian deity of wisdom
and magic, ordained death for humans from their very inception. Mortality
defined the fundamental human condition, and is even described as the destiny
(Akk. šimtu) of mankind. The most common euphemism for dying in
Mesopotamian texts is “to go to one’s fate” (Cooper 21). The quest for physical
immortality, suggests the Epic of Gilgamesh, was consequently futile. The best
humans could strive for was enduring fame through their deeds and
accomplishments on earth. Immortality, insofar as it was metaphorically
possible, was actualized in the memory of future generations.
Humans were considered alive (Akk. awilu) as long as
they had blood in their veins and breath in their nostrils. At the moment
when humans were emptied of blood or exhaled their last breath, their bodies
were considered empty cadavers (Akk. pagaru. The condition of this empty
corpse is compared to deep sleep and, upon burial in the ground, the body
fashioned from clay “returned to clay” (Bottéro, “Religion” 107). The biblical
euphemism for death as sleep (New Revised Standard Version, 1 Kgs. 2:10; 2 Kgs.
10:35; 15:38; 24:6; 2 Chron. 9:31) and the statement, “You are dust, and to
dust you shall return” (Gen. 3:19; cf. Ecc. 3:20), point to the common cultural
milieu underlying ancient Mesopotamian and Israelite paradigms.
The Mesopotamians did not view physical death as the
ultimate end of life. The dead continued an animated existence in the form of a
spirit, designated by the Sumerian term gidim and its Akkadian equivalent, eṭemmu.
The eṭemmu is best understood as a ghost. Its etiology is described in the Old
Babylonian Atrahasis epic I 206-230, which recounts the creation of humans from
the blood of the slain god We-ilu. The text uses word play to connect the etemmu
to a divine quality: We-ilu is characterized as one who has ṭemu,
“understanding” or “intelligence”. Thus, humans were thought to be composed of
a corporeal body and some type of divine insight.
It must be stressed that Mesopotamian notions of the
physical body and the eṭemmu do not represent a strict body/soul dualism.
Unlike the concept of psyche in Classical Greek
thought, the eṭemmu was closely associated with the physical corpse. Some texts
even speak of the eṭemmu as if it were identical to the body. For instance, the
eṭemmu is sometimes described as “sleeping” in the grave (Scurlock, “Death”
1892) – a description that echoes accounts of the corpse or pagaru. Further,
the eṭemmu retained corporeal needs such as hunger and thirst, a
characteristic that will be discussed in more detail below. It also unclear
whether the eṭemmu existed within the living body prior to death (and was
thus an entity that separated from the body), or whether it only came into
existence at the moment of physical death (and was thus an entity created by
the transformation of some physical life-force). In either case, upon physical
death the status of the deceased changed from awilu to eṭemmu. Death was
therefore a transitionary stage during which humans were transformed from one
state of existence to another.
The eṭemmu was not immediately transported to the
netherworld after bodily death, but had to undergo an arduous journey in order
to reach it. Proper burial and mourning of the corpse was essential for the eṭemmu's transition
to the next world. Provided that the necessary funerary rites were performed,
the ghost was required to cross a demon-infested steppe, pass over the Khuber
River with the assistance of an individual named Silushi/Silulim or
Khumut-tabal (the latter meaning “Quick, take [me] there!”), and be admitted
through the seven gates of the netherworld city with the permission of the
gatekeeper, Bidu (“Open up!”).
Upon arrival in the netherworld, the eṭemmu was “judged” by
the court of the Annunaki and assigned a place in its new subterranean
community. This judgment and placement was not of an ethical nature and had
nothing to do with the deceased’s merits during its lifetime. Instead, it had
rather a clerical function and confirmed, according to the rules of the
netherworld, the etemmu’s entrance into its new home.
Yet the judgment and placement of the eṭemmu in the
netherworld was not entirely arbitrary or neutral. Just as social hierarchies
existed within living communities, so too did a hierarchy between ghosts exist
in the “great city” of the dead. The status of an eṭemmu in the
netherworld was determined by two factors: the social status of the deceased
while alive, and the post-mortem care its body and grave or cult statue
received from the living on earth. Kings like Urnamma and Gilgamesh remained
rulers and judges of the dead in the netherworld, and priests remained priests.
In this respect the social order underground mimicked that above. Some texts
such as Gilgamesh and Enkidu and the Netherworld indicate that the
deceased’s lot in the underworld depended on the number of children one
had. The more descendents, the more privileged the eṭemmu's existence in
the netherworld, for there were more relatives to ensure the performance of
necessary post-mortem rituals.
In the underworld the eṭemmu could be reunited with
relatives who had preceded them in death. It should be noted, however, that
although the eṭemmu was capable of recognizing and being recognized by the
ghosts of people the deceased had known during life, these ghosts do not seem
to have retained the deceased's unique personality traits in the netherworld.
In addition to the eṭemmu, living beings were also thought
to be composed of a wind-like emanation called in Akkadian the zaqiqu (or ziqiqu).
This spirit was sexless, probably birdlike, and was associated with dreaming
because it could depart the body while the individual was asleep. Both the eṭemmu and
the zaqiqu descended to the netherworld after physical death. Aside from
descriptions of dreams, however, the eṭemmu is mentioned far more prominently
than the zaqiqu in Mesopotamian literature.
This may be due to the fact that, unlike the eṭemmu, the zaqiqu was considered
relatively harmless and unable to interfere either positively or negatively in
the affairs of the living. It was therefore natural that a greater number of
Mesopotamian texts would focus on proper ritual care for the eṭemmu, since these
rites were intended to pacify the spirit of the dead so that it would not haunt
the living.
The Relationship Between the Dead & the Living
As indicated above, the fate of the eṭemmu after
corporeal death depended on performance of the proper post-mortem rituals by
the living. First, funerary rites—specifically burial of the corpse and ritual
mourning— at the time of death were necessary for the eṭemmu's successful
journey to and integration into the netherworld. Second, continued cultic
offerings at the deceased’s grave or (at least in the pre-Sargonic period) cult
statue were required to ensure the eṭemmu's comfortable existence in the
netherworld. We have seen that the eṭemmu retained the needs of a living being.
Most importantly, it required sustenance. Yet the netherworld was devoid of any
palatable nourishment. As the Death of Urnamma articulates, “The food of the
netherworld is bitter and the water is brackish” (Cohen 103). The ghost was
therefore dependent on the living for subsistence, which was provided through
offerings of food and beverage. Absence of offerings reduced the eṭemmu to a
beggar’s existence in the netherworld. The primary responsibility for
performing these offerings fell to the eldest son of the deceased. Scurlock
connects post-mortem duties with Mesopotamian property laws by positing that
this “is presumably why [the eldest son] also customarily received an extra
share of the inheritance” (“Death” 1888).
Both non-elites and elites required such rituals, but the
necessity of death cults for the elite was particularly emphasized. The primary
difference between death cults for the non-elite and elite appears to have been
that, for ordinary people, only the deceased personally known to their
descendants –such as immediate family— required individual eṭemmu cults.
Distant relatives seem to have “merged together in a sort of corporate
ancestor” (Scurlock, “Death” 1889). In contrast, royal cult offerings were made
individually to all ancestors of the reigning king.
As long as offerings continued regularly, the eṭemmu remained
at peace in the netherworld. Pacified ghosts were friendly and could be induced
to aid the living, or at least were prevented from harming them. A person who
did not receive proper burial rites or cultic offerings, however, became a
restless ghost or vicious demon. Some cases where this could occur included
people who were left unburied, suffered a violent death or other unnatural end,
or died unmarried. Vicious ghosts pursued, seized, bound, or even physically
abused their victims, and could also possess victims by entering into them via
their ears. They could also haunt the dreams of the living. Sickness, both
physical and psychological, and misfortune were often believed to be caused by
the anger of a restless eṭemmu . For example, the suffering servant of
the Babylonian poem Ludlul bēl nēmeqi deplores his fate:
Debilitating Disease is let loose upon me:
An Evil Wind has blown [from the] horizon,
Headache has sprung up from the surface of the underworld….
The irresistible [Ghost] left Ekur [The Lamastu-demon
came] down from the mountain. (Lines 50-55, Poem of the Righteous Sufferer)
The Mesopotamians developed many magical means of dealing
with vengeful ghosts. Some methods included the tying of magical knots, the
manufacturing of amulets, smearing on magical ointments, drinking magical
potions, the burial of a surrogate figurine representing the ghost, and the
pouring libations while reciting incantations.
Conclusions
In Mesopotamian conceptions of the afterlife, life did not
end after physical death but continued in the form of an eṭemmu, a spirit or
ghost dwelling in the netherworld. Further, physical death did not sever the
relationship between living and deceased but reinforced their bond through a
new set of mutual obligations. Just as the well being of the ghost in the
netherworld was contingent upon offerings from the living, so too was the well
being of the living contingent upon on the proper propitiation and favor of the
dead. To a notable degree, these afterlife beliefs reflected and reinforced the
social structure of kinship ties in Mesopotamian communities.