Imagining the End: Visions of



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Abbas Amanat, Magnus T. Bernhardsson - Imagining the End Visions of Apocalypse from the Ancient Middle East to Modern America-I. B. Tauris (2002)

locus classicus

 is a passage in the Roman writer Seneca, claiming to quote

Berossus, a Babylonian scholar who wrote a book in Greek about Babylonian

astrology, history and culture in the early third century 



. This work is



lost except for quotations, allusions and summaries in various classical and

early medieval writers, some based directly on his work, most, like Seneca’s,

indirect citations to summaries or quotations by others. Seneca describes

Berossus’s teaching as follows: ‘All that the earth inherits will, he assures us,

be consigned to flame when the planets, which now move in different orbits,

all assemble in Cancer, so arranged in one row that a straight line may pass

through their spheres. When the same gathering takes place in Capricorn,

then we are in danger of  the deluge.’

14

 Since no reference to such a belief  has



been identified in any Mesopotamian source, and since the doctrine of

planetary spheres was not part of  Mesopotamian astronomy, most scholars of

Mesopotamian cultures would consider this passage insufficient evidence for

the existence of  a Babylonian idea of  the end of  the world.

15

 It is not,



therefore, presented in conventional discussions of  Mesopotamian religion,

which seldom even mention eschatology.

16

Considerably more attention has been given to a small group of  late



documents usually called ‘prophecies’ or ‘apocalypses’. These refer to future

events in veiled language, some of  which seem to have to do with Achaemenid

and Hellenistic rulers. A passage from one of  these reads as follows: ‘Another

king will arise, but this time in [the city] Uruk. He will bring justice to the

land and restore the gods, sanctuaries, fortifications, and prosperity of  Uruk.



26

Origins


The preceding king’s son will arise in Uruk and the empire. His reign will

be established forever. [The kings?] of  Uruk will exercise dominion like the

gods.’

17

 This fits a narrow definition of  eschatological thought to the extent



that it foretells an era of  triumph for the city Uruk, which had not known

an independent dynasty for at least ten centuries when this text was written.

The phrase ‘established forever’ is a cliché of  Mesopotamian royalty so should

not be construed as a prediction of  eternal life. This passage, as well as the

group of  texts it belongs to, suggests that there was in fact a Mesopotamian

background to Jewish apocalyptic, originating perhaps in Babylonia under

Achaemenid rule, even as a protest to it, and continuing into the Hellenistic

period.


18

 Enough is known of  the cultural life of  this fascinating period of

Mesopotamian history to show that it is a serious blunder to consider it a

feeble afterglow of  the Mesopotamian civilization of  a millennium earlier. It

is also a priori unlikely that people believed the same things in Babylon in the

sixth century 



 as they had in the sixteenth. But we may still adhere to our



position that eschatology was a late development in Mesopotamia, possibly a

consequence of  foreign rule, and then ask a more difficult question: why not

earlier? What dynamic of  earlier phases of  Mesopotamian culture tended to

exclude eschatology? What might a Mesopotamian scholar of  the late second

millennium 




, for example, have said if  someone asked him if  the world

would end and, if  so, how and when?

His answer might surprise a modern student: the world had already ended

in the remote past and that marked the beginning of  the present. Meso-

potamian thought and tradition knew of  an all-embracing catastrophe, the

deluge.


19

 The discovery of  a Mesopotamian deluge story, with unmistakable

similarities to the biblical flood story, was, in fact, the beginning of  European

preoccupation with ancient Mesopotamia. Various versions of  the story are

now known in the Akkadian language, the earliest from about the seventeenth

century 




, the latest from manuscripts of  the seventh century 



, which


probably preserve a text from late in the second millennium.

20

According to the earliest full version,



21

 the deluge was sent by the gods to

obliterate the human race. Thanks to the intervention of  a sympathetic deity,

a flood hero and his wife survived by building a large boat and taking aboard

various animals (a later version includes craftsmen to keep alive knowledge of

the arts). The deluge wiped out the entire human race and all traces of

civilization. In the terror and confusion of  the deluge, the gods recognized

that this measure had been too drastic. In its aftermath, when they found

themselves hungry and thirsty, the gods regretted that their human subjects

were gone, as there was no one to provide for their needs, to feed, clothe,

house, and entertain them. Therefore the human race was allowed to re-

populate the earth, but death was ordained for all humans, as well as periodic




27

Mesopotamia and the End of Time

measures to reduce population on a larger scale, such as famine, plague and

ravening beasts. In addition, the birth rate was reduced by ordaining human

infertility and establishing social prohibition of  child-bearing to certain classes

of  women, such as priestesses.

The Mesopotamians viewed human life before the deluge as different. The

correlation of  biological with calendrical time was vastly slower. Human beings

lived to enormous ages, not with conventional childhoods and adulthoods and

long old ages, but rather with all stages of  life more leisurely – a baby might

be in nappies for a century, for example.

22

 Life was better then because it



lasted longer. In their literature Babylonians sometimes suggested that life

went by too quickly. The idea that remote antiquity embraced long periods

without important cultural changes is familiar to the modern historian, who

tends to think of  more than 



 per cent of  human history as relatively stable



in terms of  population, material culture and subsistence patterns. To the

Babylonian historian, the rhythm of  time and life were different, and seemed

faster, with the recession of  the deluge.

Another characteristic of  the Mesopotamian view of  most ancient life was

that there was once less conflict of  interest between humans and beasts than

in the present, or, in some versions, there were no baneful beasts in the world

at all:

In those days, there being no snakes, no scorpions,

No hyenas, no lions, no dogs, no wolves,

Neither fear nor terror:

Humanity had no enemy!

23

Less conflict may have taken place among human beings, as in most ancient



times the human race was less diverse: people had been mostly like the

Mesopotamians but had later branched out with their own languages and

gods.

The author of  the early version of  the deluge story, presenting it as the



early history of  the human race, proposed an original solution to the question

as to why the world changed with a sudden catastrophe. Life was in fact too

long and too productive. The teeming masses of  the human race raised such

a clamour that the gods could not sleep. This robust and ironic literary

treatment of  the deluge scarcely accords with the narrow definitions of

millennial thought offered above. First, the final consummation took place in

the past. Second, the human race barely survived, but without justification or

moral improvement, just recognition of  its utilitarian importance to the gods.

Third, the flood is clearly understood, at least in the later version, to be a

one-time event, never to recur. There was no waiting for a second flood and

computing the time until it would occur. Fourth, no era of  bliss followed.



28

Origins


Thereafter, as the Babylonian author saw it, people had to die in an orderly

and prompt manner or be periodically wiped out in large numbers; there

were also whole groups of  people who could not or were not allowed to

reproduce themselves. Humanity worked to maintain the gods, who lived

for ever in idleness and petty intrigues. The blissful elect had already died

long ago.

One must avoid, however, any paradigm in which Mesopotamians looked

towards the past, without hope, while Christians look towards the future,

with hope. In fact, the Mesopotamians were intensely interested in the future

and turned their finest scholarly and scientific talents towards understanding

and even manipulating it.

24

 But they proceeded from an understanding of  the



present that modern readers have struggled to come to terms with. Human

civilization was not a product of  human history or even occasional divine

interventions. Rather, major human institutions, such as agriculture, urban

life, arts and crafts, scholarship, religious practice, or authoritarian rule, were

given to the human race before the deluge and remained essentially stable

through time. To the Sumerians, this meant that human institutions were

defined by individual, abstract, differentiated powers controlled by the gods.

To the Babylonians, human institutions were designed or planned by the

gods and laid down for the human race in fully developed form.

25

 People



could ignore or forget them but they were there to be rediscovered.

Therefore, the discontinuities between gods and humans were those of

mortality and inferior human powers and intelligence in opposition to immor-

tality, unlimited powers and superior wisdom and understanding belonging to

the gods.

26

 The life patterns, needs, policies and material culture of  the divine



and mortal spheres were comparable. Since the physical world was part of  a

cosmos constructed, arranged and controlled by the gods, its order could but

seldom be at fundamental variance with their purposes, and so destruction of

the world was not envisaged.

27

 Nor should we expect the flood to be a universal



boundary in Mesopotamian thought. The Babylonian Epic of  Creation, for

example, ends before the flood, considering the organization of  the universe

and the construction of  Babylon the main events of  history.

28

 In any case, the



present was a product of  stable, god-given institutions and short-lived human

endeavours.

Turning to the future, we find that Mesopotamian texts addressed to

human beings of  ages to come assume a cultural horizon similar to that of

the time the text was written: Babylonian kings will still repair temples and

public buildings and remember with honour their predecessors. There will be

good and bad times and different cities and dynasties will rule the land.

29

 But



there will always be a land and cities and dynasties, without significant social

or technological changes, far into the future.




29

Mesopotamia and the End of Time

Mesopotamian culture makes ample reference to a belief  in destiny, deter-

mined by the gods at birth, even written on a sublime tablet.

30

 The gods



vouchsafed glimpses of  destiny in both everyday and extraordinary occurrences

and in response to queries and technical procedures carried out by professional

scholars.

31

 Aspects of  destiny could be averted or manipulated through rituals,



though the ultimate destiny, death, could not be avoided. In a culture that

placed strong emphasis on destiny, the past, in which destiny was decided,

will be the same as the future, in which destiny is acted out. A person will

live towards his past, hence the future is what lies behind him, or one could

say that his future has already happened.

32

 If  one accepts this idea, or a



variation of  it, then one can hope to discover the future from the present and

past, as they form a seamless whole. Mesopotamian hope for the future,

therefore, centred on the possibilities of  manipulating or swaying destiny, by

changing behaviour and carrying out apotropaic procedures sold by experts.

We cannot create a false symmetry by asserting that the Mesopotamians

had millennialism reversed, that people were seeking an era of  bliss by

burrowing into the past. Informed imitation of  the past was a virtue, but this

is so widespread in human communities that it would not make the Babylonians

into millenarians. Furthermore, the crucial line between past and present, the

deluge, could not be crossed. When the Mesopotamian hero-king Gilgamesh

decided that he was man enough to try to cross this boundary and find the

secret of  immortal life, the flood hero scoffs at his venture, ‘Who then will

call the gods to assembly for your sake, that you may find the eternal life you

seek?’


33

 He does, however, allow Gilgamesh to bring back to the human race

the story of  the flood, which otherwise would have remained unknown, since

there was no one else to recount it. There is no hope for anyone beyond the

normal life-span (even if  courtesy required wishing kings an everlasting reign,

as in the prophecy concerning Uruk quoted above).

Having considered what happened in the remote past, we may turn to

Mesopotamian speculations about the far future, which to Mesopotamians

meant what happens after death. This too has a bearing on the possibilities

for eschatological beliefs. Death held no promise of  a better world, rather, a

worse one, permanent incarceration in a dark, dusty place, languishing in

eternal hunger and thirst unless one’s descendants remembered to make food

offerings. Such joys as were to be attained were decidedly of  this life. Death

was the end of  everything about a human being that was attractive or worth

experiencing.

34

Here too the 




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