[The Unsucky English Gilgamesh series so far: 1: Dangerous Questions ~ 2: The Day I Thought Gilgamesh Would Cost Me My Job ~ 3: Adam and Eve, Backwards ~ 4. The Seven Deadly Sins, Backwards.]¹

Let me state at the outset that this lecture is about Gilgamesh, though at times it will be so only north by northwest - because this lecture will be speaking of Gilgamesh in the context of a death in the family, and that family’s attempts to make meaning of life in the face of that death.

It’s the same struggle Gilgamesh experiences in the world’s oldest religious story.

~     ~     ~

Death, Consolation, and the Problem of Evil

My wife lost her mother two weeks ago. Her mother was a good woman, and passionately Christian. Yet her life was ended at a young 64 by a stroke followed closely by a terminal cancer. My wife, on the one hand, cannot understand how the god her mother loved so much would end her life so early; and on the other hand, my wife now feels pulled to explore her mother’s religion in order to understand and, she hopes, experience the happiness this religion gave her mother.

The question my wife keeps asking is “Why?” It’s an old and bedeviling question in Christianity, one that theologians have a term for: theodicy, “the problem of evil,” in a universe purportedly controlled by a god said to be both all-powerful and all-good. If he is these things, then how could he stand by and watch this devout woman die such a slow and tragically early death?

Had this death occurred before I began this series on Gilgamesh, I probably would have offered insights about our reaction to death and loss from Buddhism and Taoism.

I’m not a Buddhist because I find reincarnation as improbable - and as devoid of compelling evidence - as I find notions of heaven and hell (though Buddhism’s lack of a permanent hell makes it a more humane metaphysics than Christianity or Islam, in my view). But the Buddha’s teachings on how we create our own suffering by letting our fear and desire master us strike me simply as psychological, not religious, wisdom.

Fearing death is unwise like fearing old age is: it’s part of the natural order - and there’s the Tao - so fearing it is unprofitable. Add to that that death is an unknown, and as far as evidence goes, most probably is nothing more than oblivion on the order of an eternal and peaceful sleep without dreams, and there seems little cause for fear. Sadness, yes, but not fear.

Desiring immortality or, more to the point, to see our deceased loved ones again in an afterlife, is equally painful. In our most honest, quiet, interior moments, I can’t help but suspect that we all harbor extreme doubts that there’s an eternal reunion of friends and family in any heaven. But our desire that this be the case, despite our secret honesty, sets the stage for inner conflict, for anguish, as hope battles skepticism and desire battles realism in our breasts. Resolution favors doubt on this question, and thus, so long as we side with our desired fantasy over the evidence of our senses, we don’t find peace.

It really boils down to a conflict between naturalism - what we guess or reason by observing nature - and supernaturalism: the teachings about unobservable things from ancient tribal books and their interpreters in today’s various priestly classes.

But to repeat: I would have offered the above perspectives had this death occurred before my studies of Gilgamesh. That’s not the case. And I am as surprised as the next person that I find myself now believing that Gilgamesh offers a wisdom about death and how it is best dealt with that is superior to that of Buddhism.

As I mentioned in my last post, the three days’ mourning and funeral for my Korean mother-in-law here in Seoul was dominated by one book: the Bible. There was one other book present during those rites, and it was my copy of Gilgamesh. As the Korean mourners and I sat on the floor with the Christian preacher leading her flock in readings, songs, and prayers - none of which I could understand, of course - I found it entirely appropriate to read this other ancient meditation on mortality and the meaning of life, since it was, after all, from a religion and a book that lived in people’s hearts for four thousand years at least - twice as long as Christianity has lived so far - and which informed and influenced the Bible as well.

When I was told that it looked disrespectful to be reading this book as the Koreans looked to their own ancient book for guidance, I put the book away. When in Rome and all of that.

But I got the chance, later, to explain to my wife why that book was profoundly relevant to the occasion. Call it a rehearsal for this post. Here goes.

A Bit of Homosexuality and a Macho Fight Scene: Ho Hum

The last lecture concluded with Shamhat - the temple prostitute who played a “holy Eve” by sexually elevating the “animal Adam” Enkidu into civilization - leading Enkidu to the city to experience its glories and to meet Gilgamesh, its king. We noted the contradiction of Enkidu’s feelings about meeting the king.  On the one hand, he looked forward to Gilgamesh satisfying his new yearning for “a true friend”; but on the other hand, he declared he would challenge Gilgamesh to a fight for two reasons: first, to stop the king’s unjust practice of taking each new bride’s virginity before her husband on her wedding day; and second, simply to show he was physically mightier than the king.

I find the story from this point to the end of the fight scene only marginally interesting.  Gilgamesh has a few dreams portending Enkidu’s arrival that disturb him, and we see the unsurprising evidence that this ancient culture, like so many others, saw dreams as possible messages from the divine.  Beyond that, we see hints that male friendship in this culture might be homosexual - which won’t surprise anybody familiar with similar hints about Achilles and Patroclus in the Iliad, practically all the Athenians of classical Greece’s Golden Age (these normal homosexuals - who gave us democracy, philosophy, tragedy, comedy, and so much more - considered straight men queer), and the Bible’s King David and Jonathan.²

Then comes the big fight scene: Gilgamesh shows up to taste his latest bride, but Enkidu blocks his way. Their fight is predictably over-the-top, half saloon-brawl in a cliche cowboy movie, half the Incredible Hulk, and finally Gilgamesh pins Enkidu. Enkidu’s a good sport: he acknowledges that Gilgamesh is his superior, that he has the right to rule, and declares his loyalty. They kiss, hold hands, and walk back to the palace.

Another WTF Plot Twist: The Quest to Kill Nature’s “Evil” Guardian

I’m intimidated at this point, because the plot turn that happens here, just a third of the way into the story, connects to everything that happens from this point forward. It’s a huge and intricate tapestry of meaning from this point on, and I honestly don’t know if I’m equal to the task of holding all the threads together. I’ll do my best, though.

The plot turn I speak of is this: After an unspecified period of time during which Gilgamesh and Enkidu cement their friendship in the city, Gilgamesh gets a wild hair up his behind and announces to Enkidu that he has a new mission: He and Enkidu are going to travel to the Cedar Forest, a sacred place which men are forbidden to enter, in order to kill its “evil” guardian, the “monster” Humbaba, and chop down the tallest cedar tree in the forest.

Enkidu, remember, was originally a semi-animal in the wild, running with the gazelles and fighting off the lions that preyed upon them. He knew the Cedar Forest, knew it was sacred to the god of the wind, Enlil, and knew that Humbaba, being appointed by Enlil to protect the forest, was thus not a creature so easy to label as “evil.” So Enkidu begs the hot-blooded young king to drop this idea.

Gilgamesh and Enkidu argue about this, and the interesting thing about the argument is this: Enkidu frames his argument in terms of the sacred. The forest is holy, Humbaba is its divinely-appointed guardian, and so to kill Humbaba would be a sacrilege. Gilgamesh, though, frames the argument not in terms of the sacred, but in terms of the heroic.

Let me assure you that, as an English teacher, I’ve always inwardly groaned at how often other English teachers trot out the unit on “the Hero’s Journey.” It’s not a bad thing, this theory. Anybody who’s read books like Joseph Campbell’s The Hero with a Thousand Faces knows how fascinating the subject is. What makes me groan is its popularity. It’s the “Hotel California” or “Stairway to Heaven” (or, god help us, the “Free Bird”) of English units, trotted out so many times that even the wormiest of us booky types must get tired of it after the thousandth listening. The other thing that makes me groan is that, in the wrong hands, it becomes as formulaic as the dreaded, crappy five-paragraph essay. There’s something dangerous about prescribing to students that they take every story under the sun and shoehorn it into the Hero’s Journey formula. By reducing stories to that framework, we can ignore what’s unique or surprising that doesn’t fit so nicely into that shoe.

So trust me, I offer the following as one of the few times I want to talk about a story in these terms.

What’s interesting about Gilgamesh to me, more than anything, is really the mind of the poets who polished and revised this story from its early Sumerian version around the 23rd century BCE to its later Babylonian version in the 12th century BCE. Unlike other ancient books that were edited and revised by countless hands over many centuries - the Bible comes to mind more than any other book I know - Gilgamesh seems to have gained in coherence and consistency of vision over time, rather than becoming, like the Bible, more contradictory and less coherent.

And the vision all these Gilgamesh poets so sharply refined is one that, contrary to appearances, is deeply anti-heroic.

You don’t realize it in the current scene. Gilgamesh answers Enkidu’s religious argument with an argument based on heroism. His motives boil down to these two: first, he wants to achieve something no other mortal has achieved, and so - since “none of us can escape death,” he says - gain immortality for his name, in stories of his exploits; and second, he wants to rid the world of “evil.” He doesn’t respond to Enkidu’s arguments at all. Instead, he chides Enkidu for being cowardly, and finally wins Enkidu over by this shaming tactic.

So the “Hero” argument wins the day. We’ll see, by the end, that it was a fool’s argument as well.

Before closing this installment, a couple more observations:

The “Double That Balances” Motif, and Another “Genesis, Backwards” Trope

To step back from the canvas for a second to take a larger view, we should review the original “wtf plot twist” so far: the god Anu’s “solution” to Gilgamesh’s oppressive behavior as king by creating Enkidu as a “double that balances” him, and “so brings peace” to Uruk.  In the first stage of this pattern, we saw Gilgamesh as symbol of the city, and Enkidu as symbol of nature; Gilgamesh as civilization, Enkidu as animal; Gilgamesh as two-thirds divine, one-third human, Enkidu as two-thirds animal, one-third human.

Now, though, we’ve seen Enkidu seem to upset that balance by crossing over to Gilgamesh’s side. Sex with Shamhat erased his original animal innocence and replaced it with full humanity; his journey to the city took him out of the realm of nature; and though he resists Gilgamesh’s urge to kill Humbaba and violate the Cedar Forest, his ultimate submission again places him now on the same side as Gilgamesh, rather than opposing him as a “balancing double.”

But look what is about to happen:  Gilgamesh is about to lead Enkidu out of the city - out of his own territory - and into Nature, the original domain of Enkidu. So in a sense, we see Enkidu cross into civilization only to - wtf - see Gilgamesh now “balance” this by entering Enkidu’s territory.

Note, further, that something is imbalanced about all of this nonetheless: because while Enkidu, when in his original state of animal innocence, protected the other animals from predators and, more significantly, human trappers, Gilgamesh is entering nature with the opposite intention: to conquer it, to kill its guardian, and to exploit its natural resources - the “tallest cedar” - for the benefit of civilization.

That was wordy, I know. I’m getting tired. But I hope you can see how very, very deep this is.

As I said in the very first lecture, this is the story of possibly the first walled city in human history. That means it’s the story of the first civilization to wall itself off from nature, and radically exploit nature in order to develop its civilization.  Since pre-civilized humans worshiped nature for hundreds of thousands of years in the paleolithic and neolithic ages, it seems quite reasonable to suspect that the people of the first city, cutting down forests for buildings and mining the earth for gold, silver, and the lapis lazuli so loved by the Sumerians, must have felt a certain fear as they violated Nature for the good of their city life.

That’s what’s so radical, to me, about the coming episode in the Cedar Forest. It’s holy to the gods. Man should not violate it. Humbaba is only “evil” from the viewpoint of the city people who want lumber for more housing, temples, markets. From the viewpoint of most of human pre-history, Humbaba is closer to an angel of the lords.

And Gilgamesh wants to kill him.

To pre-empt the type of comment that I frequently get accusing me of one-sidedness, let me make this clear: Civilization is glorious in this poem, according to its poets. They sing its praises with unambiguous adoration. And they surely understood that civilization thus required the lumber, the minerals, the precious stones, and all the other natural resources sacred to the gods.

And that’s one of the beauties of this classic: we see the earth’s first advanced civilizations rightly celebrating its achievements while at the same time worrying about its effects on the natural order around it.

In that sense, Gilgamesh feels closer to me - as I read the daily accounts of global warming’s acceleration and the death of the seas through acidification and over-fishing - than any other ancient book. If we’re the Omega of civilization, due to our unrestrained exploitation of nature in the name of civilization, then Gilgamesh is the Alpha. And that’s deep to me - and another reason this classic doesn’t suck.

And it’s just the beginning.

As for the “Genesis, Backwards” thing? We’ve seen how Gilgamesh is the opposite of “Genesis” in terms of woman and sexuality (both good), and in terms of most of the “Seven Deadly Sins” (not deadly, not sins).  Now we see another radical difference from the Judeo-Christian in this older religion: In Gilgamesh, the gods created nature and forbade mankind to violate it. In “Genesis,” though?

“And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness: and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth.” Genesis 1:26

While there are various ways to interpret this text - and ReligousTolerance.org gives a nicely balanced overview of those ways - it’s beyond dispute that the Judeo-Christian-Islamic god comes nowhere close to the Sumerian and Babylonian position on nature in Gilgamesh. In this book, nature was not created for humanity at all; on the contrary, the gods defend Nature from us.

Wtf indeed. It’s an ancient wisdom never more relevant than now.

And if you haven’t noticed, let me spell it out: in my view, the Tanach (what Christians call “The Old Testament”) seems, more and more, to be the polar opposite of Gilgamesh.  Up to now, I’ve been playing with phrases like “Adam and Eve, Backwards,” and “The Seven Deadly Sins, Backwards.” But really, since both of those things come later than the culture of Gilgamesh - and the Biblical Judeans were conquered by the Babylonians, deported by them, and had their temple destroyed by them - it seems far more accurate to call the Bible “Gilgamesh, Backwards.”

More on that later too. And oh yes: death.

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If you like this post, please spread it: (But don't tag it "education." That will bury it.)

1. This series based on the beautifully poetic 2004 Stephen Mitchell translation of Gilgamesh.
2. Please note I that I speak here of “hints” of homosexuality. Google or Wikipedia will give you more info.

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19 Comments

• At September 23, 2008, Jack wrote:

  Clay,

  Another great one. I love your observation of Alpha and Omega cultures; I hadn't thought of it that way but of course it makes sense.

  On an unrelated note, Gilgamesh's shaming tactic sounds like something I've heard from politicians and pundits over the last few years. Good to know that nothing ever changes.

• At September 23, 2008, Kate Tabor wrote:

  Hi Clay,

  I am enjoying this series and the deep exploration of this story, and I'm struck by what you point out as the protection of the natural world (not subjugation) and that balance of use and destroy, sacred and utilitarian. When you wrote that "cutting down forests for buildings and mining the earth for gold, silver, and the lapis lazuli so loved by the Sumerians, must have felt a certain fear as they violated Nature for the good of their city life," it made me jump back to the beginning of the story.

  The storyteller presents Uruk, the walled city made fabulous, and directs our attention to a copper box, latched. Open the latch, lift the lid, and we see the lapis tablets that this story is recorded on. It's a story that honors friendship, humanity, nature AND is held in a precious space. I don't know how Mitchell handles this, but I've always loved the iamge of the storyteller with the copper box in her hand, sharing a beautiful thing - the story, not the box.

  Thanks, again.

• At September 23, 2008, Michael Doyle wrote:

  Again, wonderful.

  This may seem trite in the face of what you've been through the past couple of weeks, but at lunch today the issue of life (or whatever) after death came up. And in a flippant moment, I decided to hinge my bets on Hubble's constant--either the universe will continue expanding forever, the Big Bang a one time event, and eventually I will be trillions (?quadrillions) of hydrogen protons wandering about in (mostly) empty space, occasionally bumping into other particles

  OR the universe collapses, expands, collapses, expands an infinite number of times; each possible moment then occurs an infinite number of times, a mother of all Groundhog Days.

  Of course, it's unlikely the Big Bang comes remotely close to whatever reality reality happens to be, but given that's our cultural context, those were my two choices at lunch today.

  Of the two, I like the former best. Tomorrow I may like the latter.

  (I think I got my internet connection fixed--I got some catching up to do.)

  Michael Doyles last blog post..Autumnal equinox--does anybody know what time it is?

• At September 23, 2008, Kate Tabor wrote:

  I like the latter at this moment because it reminds me of the

  Hindu creation myth and how this world began with the opening of the lotus and will end when it closes - then it will open again...

  But the former speaks of Walt Whitman and his Song of Myself -

  "I open my scuttle at night and see the far-sprinkled systems,

  And all I see, multiplied as high as I can cipher, edge but the rim of the farther systems.

  Wider and wider they spread, expanding, always expanding,

  Outward and outward, and forever outward.

  [...] There is no stoppage, and never can be stoppage;

  Kate Tabors last blog post..The things we LIKE are complicit in the things we DON’T…

• At September 23, 2008, Michael Doyle wrote:

  Today I'm back to hoping for the latter (and since there's no way to know, let me rephrase that as faith in the latter).

  Not sure why I was so fond of entropy yesterday. Lunch in the faculty cafeteria can warp one's perception.

  I need to go revisit the Hindu creation myth. I have a habit of adopting various myths, depending, it seems, on my increasing decreptitude.

  (And the Whitman reference is wonderful, almost enough to push me back to yesterday's position.)

• At September 23, 2008, Clay Burell wrote:

  Interesting, Jack. In his introduction, Mitchell makes connects Gilgamesh's moral certainty that Humbaba was "evil," and thus deserving of attack, with George Bush's similar "god-directed" certainty that invading Iraq was the unequivocally right thing to do.

• At September 23, 2008, Clay Burell wrote:

  Wonderful comment as usual, Kate (and nice to see you and Michael settling into a chat here ;-) ).

  When I started this series, I didn't have a copy of the book, so I skipped that opening paean to the city and the wonderful device you mention of the book in the foundation-stone of the city wall. Now that I have the book (a former co-worker filched a copy for me from my old school - I'll pay for it later), it's a bit too late to discuss that. Until the very end, anyway. But let's not give that away, wink wink.

• At September 23, 2008, Clay Burell wrote:

  Michael (and Kate), that eternal cycle of Hindu-like Big Bangs reminds me of Nietzsche's myth of the "eternal return of the same." As physics, I don't think he meant it literally, though I've seen academics argue he did. I always thought he meant it ethically: live your life like you're fated to repeat it eternally, as a way not to disgust yourself with how you're wasting or compromising it.

  But then with String Theory and parallel universes and extra dimensions, maybe we're all living infinite lives right now without knowing. I can't wait for an interdimensional skype. (And this sounds far dorkier than anything I've written since my hazy college days ;-) ).

  I've been up and down the ladder of ecstasy and misery enough times to want to choose life every time, but eternal sleep is okay too. Buddhism would be okay if it's right, since it gives second chances. And I see no way in hell that the universe has such evil in it that there would be an eternal burning-place for people who thought differently or lived botched lives.

  Now I'm going to shut up and drink in the Whitman Kate left us. Damn he's fine. And young Oscar Wilde, I think I recall, once sat, all 6 foot 4 of him, in old Uncle Walt's lap, and gave him a kiss. (Let's forget that they both got petty and attacked each other later.)

• At September 24, 2008, diane wrote:

  Clay,

  I haven't read Gilgamesh - yet - but find your summary and analysis fascinating.

  It sounds like Enkidu & Gilgamesh exchange roles, with the "animal" advocating morality and the "hero" desiring destruction.

  If this world is an anti-Eden, would the protagonists start with the knowledge of good & evil, then surrender this knowledge and sink to ignorance when they taste the forbidden fruit?

  There is much to ponder here.

  dianes last blog post..Float Like a Butterfly

• At September 24, 2008, Alexandra wrote:

  I am totally riveted by these series about Gilgamesh. I read it a couple of months ago, as part of my self-inflicted rediscovering of school-literature. I loved it even then, I can remember, but it was for the things like sex (which at 15 is an excellent topic all by itself) and religion in a very nighttime telly type of way, as E. Izzard would say. Now that I've read it again, I noticed things about it that were even more interesting then the sole idea of sex socially acceptable and even celebrated (I had outgrown the hormonal stage of my life) or religion as being only an interesting, new thing. This series comes as a confirmation that I had not imagined all of the symbolism and connections to both other ancient and modern literature. Bravo! I applaud this attempt at making Gilgamesh more approachable.

• At September 24, 2008, Kate Tabor wrote:

  Clay and Michael - talk about the universe expanding! Just imagining that meeting between Wilde and Whitman - might have learned something about more than poetry!

  "Every kind for itself and its own, for me mine male and female,

  For me those that have been boys and that love women" (Song of Myself - sect.7)

  It is, indeed, all about sex.

  Kate Tabors last blog post..The things we LIKE are complicit in the things we DON’T…

• At September 24, 2008, Clay Burell wrote:

  Diane, that's an interesting riff on the Adam and Eve, Backwards idea I played with earlier.

  I can't help but hope that we'll learn, after fully digesting the consequences of unrestrained use of knowledge that we see around us in the dying modern world (it does seem like it's dying, doesn't it?), that we'll gain a wisdom that allows us to use science in a way that's more wise and less greedy.

  Have you seen the old Mad Max movies? I think of them often these days.

• At September 24, 2008, Clay Burell wrote:

  Thank you, Alexandra. The funny thing is - and it's the premise of this entire intended series, about most schooly books we slept through in high school - most of these books are explosively mind-altering challenges to the simple beliefs at the foundations of our culture today.

  And we sleep through them because, while we're no longer burned at the stake for attacking false idols, we're still often fired for it. So we only teach the safe parts.

  I can't wait to get to Romeo and Juliet, for example.

  Anyway, thanks again.

• At September 25, 2008, Alexandra wrote:

  You're welcome.

  Ooooh, I look forward to your Romeo and Juliet analysis. My peers found it excruciatingly boring, I enjoyed it immensely. Can't wait to see what you have to say.

  On a different note, I've often heard it said that teachers have less freedom to, as you say, attack false idols in America than elsewhere. I don't believe that. I'm a chip off the old Eastern block, Eastern Europe is where I went to school. And our teachers also slept through various parts of really interesting literature because they were afraid, not of the parents, but the regime altogether. Some classical works were omitted, and some still are.

• At September 25, 2008, Clay Burell wrote:

  Alexandra, you've got to tell us more. Where in the Eastern bloc? When? Have things changed since '91-'93?

  But your point is well-taken. Ideologies, whether religious or political, lead most of us to put on muzzles.

• At September 25, 2008, Alexandra wrote:

  I don't think I've ever been considered to be so interesting as I am here. *chuckles*

  To answer your question of where: in South Eastern Europe. I grew up in what was Yugoslavia, and now is the Republic of Croatia. I went to high school in the 80s, and things were slowly going downhill even then. It was difficult being a teenager, especially one that was brought up to be free-minded and modern by an extremely liberal family. It was a time when you got punished in school for simply asking a question, not to mention what would happen if you had the gall to openly disagree with the school's policy. Then, in '88 and '89 the tensions in the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (SFRY) escalated. The Yugoslav wars started in 1991 after the secession of most of the constituent entities. The Croatian war of independence lasted for 4 long years (1991-1995), and we were finally able to build our new independent country, if from scratch.

  So yes, things have changed since I went to school, and they changed a lot. But still, given that Croatia is a conservative country, with a lot of pressure coming from the Christian Church (especially in the matters of sexual education - which has been the point of many heated debates for the last two years), schools aren't permitted to teach what they'd like to, and what, by all accounts, they should teach children. There has been some effort to change the way education here works, but it's laughable, if you ask me. There are tons of inconsistencies and some things just don't work like they did before, what with the new age of electronics and Internet.

  The new school-reformations barely scratch the surface of the problems our teachers and students face. Things have changed, yes, but there is room for change still. Hopefully, for the better.

  I hope I didn't bore you with this long comment, but it's difficult to describe the current state of schooling here if you don't understand the background.

• At September 26, 2008, Kassi wrote:

  Clay,

  I would like to thank you for sharing this series. You have shown more interest and passion in just one entry than I remember any teacher ever showing me in the years of my education. I would have loved to have you as a teacher or professor. Though, so often, students in college are more dedicated and appreciate their education more than in high school, so appreciate professors more as well.

  All in all, you have made learning about this ancient, classic Gilgamesh most enjoyable. Thank you again.

• At September 26, 2008, Mikey wrote:

  Clay,

  Today we learned about Mesopotamia in school and slightly touched on the subject of Gilgamesh. But, from what my teacher said, which wasn't a lot, I knew that I would like it. So today I set out on the Internet and found this series.

  Just let me say one thing; WOW!!!! This is simply awesome. That’s basically all I can say. Right now I want to read the 2004 translation. But, sadly my town has no copies of it, or any alternate form, within its boundaries. Trust me, I've been checkin'.

  Anyway this is a simply marvelous series. I can’t wait for the next entry.

  *applause begins*

• At October 2, 2008, Mark wrote:

  I've read all the posts in this series, and I have to say it's refreshing to see somebody with such insight and passion for literature. It made me feel a little embarrassed when I thought that high school students were making such deep analytic comments in their class, whereas I remember just talking about what the symbols and metaphors were in each story. I was marginally relieved to find out that it was all just a dream, but I still love your analysis of the story. I might just have to go out and get a copy of Gilgamesh after reading your posts.

[The Unsucky English Gilgamesh series so far: 1: Dangerous Questions ~ 2: The Day I Thought Gilgamesh Would Cost Me My Job ~ 3: Adam and Eve, Backwards ~ 4. this post ~ 5. Good and Evil, Nature and the Hero - Backwards]¹

~     ~     ~

Beyond the Giggles: More on the “Seven Days’ Erection”

As we saw last episode, seven days of sex with Shamhat, the temple prostitute of the goddess Ishtar, gave the innocent, wild, and Adam-like Enkidu² more than seven days of carnal pleasure: “knowing what a woman is” in this way also humanized him, making him lose his animal essence, making his “mind grow,” making him understand language, making him suddenly yearn for that most civilized thing - friendship.

It’s worth speculating that Enkidu’s epic sexual marathon with Shamhat might itself be another “gift of civilization,” since animals, so far as I know, don’t draw out the raw sexual act across days, don’t turn it into a sacred art form the way Ishtar’s hierodules³ do, and thus don’t experience this natural act with anywhere near the range of sensations, thoughts, and emotions that humans do. Without being literal about the sex scene’s “seven days” - any more than Bible readers should be literal about the forty days of Noah’s flood or of Jesus’ meditation in the desert, which are probably the ancient culture’s variation of our own “dozens” or “hundreds” or “millions,” when we just mean to say “many” in a hyperbolic way - the fact remains that the poets of Gilgamesh chose to emphasize that Enkidu’s sexual initiation was no animalistic quickie, but instead something lasting an unusually long time. Why? Because what humans can learn through erotic love, seen as sacred, cannot be learned in a hurry.

Some of you will think I’m crazy at this point, but I’ll counter by pointing out that Hinduism is another major religion that does not damn sex as a sin, does not freak out at this centerpiece of the natural order, and on the contrary, has among its sacred scriptures the Kama Sutra, which is essentially a Sanskrit sex manual aiming to instruct men and women in the arts of love-making - so that families, with happier husbands and happier wives, can be stronger.⁴

So after one last bit of love-making in their natural paradise, Shamhat gives Enkidu one of her robes - you have to love the “Adam as cross-dresser” bit - and they begin their trip to Uruk, the only big city in that mind-bogglingly distant ancient world, twice as far from us in time as the Bible.

The Seven Deadly Sins, Backwards: Enkidu’s Moral Education Continues

They stop on the way at some shepherds’ huts, where Enkidu creates quite a stir. The shepherds all compare him to King Gilgamesh in strength and stature, and speculate who would win if the two supermen came to blows. ESPN, Sumerian-style. Whatever.

More interestingly, though, they provide Enkidu with his next taste - literally - of civilization: bread and beer. Shamhat, still the teacher and initiator, tells Shamhat:

“Go ahead, Enkidu. This is food,
we humans eat and drink this.”

Let’s stop here and think about the pattern so far of Enkidu’s “civilized education”: the first stage was sex, a physical pleasure; and now we come to bread - eating - another physical pleasure, and beer, which is complicated.

Because beer is not just the “drinking” equivalent to “eating,” the way water or milk would be.  Beer is an intoxicant.

How would most of today’s Christian preachers advise us to regard this food and drink? I can only point to the status of “gluttony” - the love of food - as one of the “Seven Deadly Sins,” and to the general disapproval of alcohol among most serious Christians today⁵ to support my argument that these two “civilized gifts” would be unpopular in Christian circles.

But in Gilgamesh, again, we see that religious viewpoint turned upside-down.  Enkidu eats the bread until he’s full, and more interestingly, likes the beer so much he drinks “seven” pitchers - after which:

his heart grew light,
his face glowed, and he sang out with joy.

No moralizing at all here. Beer is a good thing. (And please note, I think there are secular arguments against beer now, in the age of the automobile and drunk driving, that make alcohol one of the worst intoxicating substances to encourage - not because it’s sinful, but because so many irresponsible people don’t know how to drink, and don’t know better than to drive after doing so. In the pre-automobile age, though? It’s harder to argue that there’s something wrong with a beverage that makes our “heart grow light” and our voice “sing out with joy.”)

This pattern of “Good, Blessed Things” being the opposite of what we see in popular Christian morality today is something to remember. We’ll return to it later, when we ask the question, “Why does the Bible forbid and demonize the things that the Sumero-Babylonian culture praises as good?” Those of you who know Jewish history - and that Christianity is essentially a radical form of Judaism - probably have the same type of answer to that question that I do. But that’s later.

Back to the story. Enkidu undergoes a couple more transformations into civilized life while with the shepherds: he gets a hair-cut, takes his first bath, and oils his skin, thus becoming, according to the poet, “fully human,” and “handsome as a bridegroom.”

Do I have to point out that caring about your appearance could qualify as the sins known as “vanity” or “pride” in the Christian tradition? And that this is yet another detail in the overall pattern that the flesh is good?

Finally, the poet follows up this last detail with evidence that Enkidu, though now more of a city-type and hedonist, enjoying sex, food, beer, and a good hair-cut and skin treatment, is still morally innocent.  My evidence?  After enjoying all these things, Enkidu takes the night shift for the shepherds, watching and protecting their flocks as they sleep, and retaining that compassion for nature’s living things that was among his chief traits “before Shamhat.”

I’ll stop there for now, after this warning: those of you who think, based on this series so far, that Gilgamesh is a text that unambiguously argues that civilization is better than nature, that humanity without limits or divine punishment is “good,” and so forth?  You have another thing coming.  As we work our way through the changes that both Enkidu and Gilgamesh undergo throughout the rest of this story, I hope you’ll agree that this ancient story is far more subtle, more disturbing, and to repeat, more wise than we would expect.

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If you like this post, please spread it: (But don't tag it "education." That will bury it.)

1. All quotes taken from the beautifully poetic 2004 Stephen Mitchell translation of Gilgamesh.
2. please don’t take the Adam comparison too literally; there are differences distinguishing Enkidu and Shamhat from Adam and Eve that we have to recognize also.
3. ”Hierodule” is the word for a temple prostitute in the ancient world.
4. The Kama Sutra is more than that, and much of its caste-system dogma is objectionable, which is inevitable when seen with modern, post-scientific and post-democratic eyes; but the point remains: Hinduism, like the Sumero-Babylonian religion, embraces the sexual and erotic as social goods, when practiced with a sacred consciousness instead of a dark, taboo, guilt-ridden one.
5. Though I’m damned if I can find much scriptural precedent for the sinfulness of drinking alcohol in the Bible - can anybody help?

---

22 Comments

• At September 12, 2008, Jamilee wrote:

  I am really enjoying your series on Gilgamesh. I think I may go out and read it now. Continue please!

• At September 12, 2008, Jose De Obeso wrote:

  Just stumbled into your blog and read it all, I find your posts very interesting and will now have to add Gilgamesh to my book list, but I am currently reading Atlas Shrugged. I do not find anything offensive in whatever you had your students read, and I would like to believe that people should have no reason to. I took literature in the IBO programme in my high school in Monterrey, Mexico where I learned to appreciate it and read more than Harry Potter and R.L. Stine. I now am fascinated by it and reading your blog took me back to my old lit class where dialogue, interpretations, and knowledge were appreciated (in my college they are not). I do not know how your story ends but I do hope that you at least inspired one kid to give up the "good" way of thinking.

• At September 13, 2008, Jack641 wrote:

  Another great post. I have my thoughts on why the values regarded as 'good' here are seen as evil in the Judeo-Christian tradition, but I'll hold off on commenting until you get to it later.

  Keep them coming!

• At September 13, 2008, Kate Tabor wrote:

  So does this beg the question about excess?

  If all of the "seven deadly sins" are in the end the things that make us human, then is it the indulgence in the excess of these very human things that makes up the "sin"? Is it necessary to subdue our passions to live a Judeo-Christian "virtuous" life?

  We are reading Ben Franklin in my autobiography class, and he claims to be actively working on 12 virtues: temperance, silence, order, resolution, frugality, industry, sincerity, justice, moderation, cleanliness, tranquility and chastity. Someone suggested he should add a 13th - humility.

  Franklin says that pride is the hardest passion to subdue, "for, even if I had completely overcome it, I would probably be proud of my humility."

  And what does this say about those of us in the world who use more than our share of natural resources (excess) and then drive a Prius to show we care?

  Kate Tabors last blog post..An open letter to the NCAA Clearinghouse

• At September 14, 2008, Paul C wrote:

  Interesting that the seven 'deadly' sins: pride/greed/lust/anger/gluttony/envy/sloth may all have a silver lining?

  I'd vote for sloth at the cottage.

  How about envy or anger in search of the truth?

  Paul Cs last blog post..Men from Mars, Women from Venus?

• At September 14, 2008, Rory wrote:

  I can't wait until the next post! I hope it comes soon!

• At September 14, 2008, tommy schmitz wrote:

  Outstanding!

  tommy schmitzs last blog post..http://Baloooma.stumbleupon.com/review/25354406/

• At September 15, 2008, Clay Burell wrote:

  Jamilee, it's a book that deserves a place on anybody's shelf. It's blowing me away all over again. (I re-read it in one day last week.)

  Thanks for the encouragement, by the way. It helps.

• At September 15, 2008, Clay Burell wrote:

  Thanks Jose. You're one of several students from IB schools to mention that no topics were taboo in your English class. It's weird that they are in your college class. Why, do you think?

  How do you like Rand? If you haven't explored Nietzsche, I think you might find him more soulful (he'd hate that word, but I mean it figuratively).

  Thanks for taking the time.

• At September 15, 2008, Clay Burell wrote:

  Thanks Jack. When we get to that million-dollar question, I look forward to your input :)

• At September 15, 2008, Clay Burell wrote:

  Interesting as usual, Kate - especially the insertion of the word "virtue." To me, that takes us out of the realm of "good/evil" morality (religion) and into the realm of "good/bad" ethics (philosophy).

  "Sin" involves notions of divine rules; "virtue" involves those of human guidelines or wisdom. The first also involves fear and punishment of an irrational sort, whereas the second involves only reason and ideas of cause/effect.

  "Virtue" - or more richly, "virtue_s_", as the ancient Greeks and Romans understood them (Alisdair MacIntyre wrote a great book called, I think, _The Death of Virtue_ about the history of the devolution of our ethical sensitivity suggested by the historical change from the plural "virtues" to the singular "virtue") - "Virtue," I was saying, is very often described in terms of moderation of pleasures, not denial of them, as the worst impulses of Christianity and Islam advise. Aristotle and Buddha both agreed on this one, for example.

  (I don't consider Buddhism as much a religion as a psychology, the misguided Buddha-worshipers notwithstanding.)

• At September 15, 2008, Clay Burell wrote:

  It seems clear to me that the Sumero-Babylonians (whose religion was alive, in total, far longer than Judeo-Christianity has lived so far, by the way) would laugh at the notion that these are "sins" at all. It's really a later invention by first, the Hebrews, and later, the Catholic Church.

  But more on all that soon. Thanks as usual, Paul.

• At September 15, 2008, Clay Burell wrote:

  Thanks Rory. Encouragement helps. Feedback is also welcome :)

• At September 15, 2008, Clay Burell wrote:

  Thanks for that, Tommy.

• At September 16, 2008, Kate Tabor wrote:

  So if virtues are based in the human and sin in the divine, then Mr. Franklin was "moderating pleasures" and not so much avoiding sin. Then does Enkidu, as he discovers the very passions that make us human, begin to explore reason and to experience longing (that living for the future that gives our old friend Sigmund Freud his conception of ego and superego as a way to both satisfy and moderate passions)?

  (and I think of Buddhism and Confucianism as ethical philosophies more than religion.)

  Thanks for giving me something to think about.

  Kate Tabors last blog post..Itchy Friday…

• At September 16, 2008, Jose De Obeso wrote:

  I thought I had made it clear when I said I was from Monterrey, Mexico. Mexico is a country with a population of over 85% declared catholics and Monterrey is one of its largest cities and is part of the conservative north. It is in fact the central hub for social conservatives in Mexico, the college that I go to is not religious in any strict sense, but since religion permeates every aspect of society everyone is assumed to be a good catholic. In fact in my ethics class we pretty much see everything from the point of view that God exists and there is one God as a given that no one argues, except me. I could fill pages about the complex social role that religion takes in my local society. Priests have a lot of power here, but at the same time do not pursue incredibly stupid agendas as in the US (creationism in school for example), they tend to give the state its place and everyone values secularism because our government has had its socialist tendencies and we have had two wars to try and end religious influence over the government. Its a very weird place, and very different from many places in teh world, because even the supposed catholics here are not true catholics, they follow some sort of weird catholicism that has merged with old pre-conquista mexican traditions. There are just too many reasons to list, but to sum up: the reason it is not taboo is that IBO values questioning authority and bringing forth new ideas, it is an integral part of their diploma and programme. In college the system is not designed for the few gifted to learn a little about everything, rather it is designed to speciliaze people in a single thing and make them good workers and masters of their degree.

• At September 16, 2008, Clay Burell wrote:

  Interesting Freud connection, threatening my head with an over-expanded balloon pop. It's been a while since I've read Freud.

  Franklin was a Deist, wasn't he? He didn't buy the Bible, did he?

• At September 16, 2008, Clay Burell wrote:

  You are really making we want to work at an IB school. And you're also making me hope you find a way to study elsewhere.

• At September 16, 2008, Kate Tabor wrote:

  I'm not a BF scholar, and Franklin may have been a Diest; as far as his Autobiogaphy goes, he mentions God a handful of times, though Jesus only once that I can find (Virtue 13. "HUMILITY. Imitate Jesus and Socrates.") I imagine that living in Quaker dominated Philadelphia there was no urge to hew to a strict construction of the Bible. Though a catholic (small c) and avid reader, he is clearly conversant with the text and he does quote the book of James in his exhortation to 'do' good not just speak of doing good. Near the beginning of his narrative he thanks God:

  "And now I speak of thanking God, I desire with all humility to acknowledge that I owe the mentioned happiness of my past life to His kind providence, which lead me to the means I used and gave them success."

  Did he "buy" the Bible? Maybe, but he didn't seem to believe in any one "way" to experience the divine. His youthful beliefs he sums up this way:

  "That there is one God, who made all things.

  "That he governs the world by his providence.

  "That he ought to be worshiped by adoration, prayer, and thanksgiving.

  "But that the most acceptable service of God is doing good to man.

  "That the soul is immortal.

  "And that God will certainly reward virtue and punish vice either here or hereafter.

  All of these (with an exception perhaps for the last) would fit within many wisdom traditions across many an age.

  I have to stop this interesting line of inquiry as my daughters are all demanding my brain space - so to stuffy heads, homework, and post dinner clearing. Thanks again - it's a such a pleasure.

  Kate Tabors last blog post..Itchy Friday…

• At September 19, 2008, Penelope M wrote:

  I'm in the middle of reading "History of the World in 6 Glasses" (highly recommended) and it's reminded me of how much we as modern people fail to understand historical perspectives on alcohol. We're so strongly influenced by the viewpoint of the temperance movement, and the availability of both distilled liqours and drinkable water that we often forget that beer (ale) and wine were pretty much the only safe things to drink for most people throughout history.

  It's worth emphasizing how strongly beer and bread were associated with civilization, with the whole idea of "let's create a city" when the idea hadn't happened before.

  -----

  I was also reading something on the origins of the Christian anti-alcohol stance and I can't remember now. I know in the US there's the more recent connection to the 2nd great awakening and the reform movements of the mid 19th century, one of which was temperance.

  Penelope Ms last blog post..Dear Hollywood: Go make insipid movies about some other profession

• At September 19, 2008, Clay Burell wrote:

  Fascinating. Keep those coming, thanks.

• At September 23, 2008, Good, Evil, Nature, and the Hero - Backwards: Unsucky English, Lecture 4 (Gilgamesh, cont’d) | Beyond School wrote:

  [...] [The Unsucky English Gilgamesh series so far: 1: Dangerous Questions ~ 2: The Day I Thought Gilgamesh Would Cost Me My Job ~ 3: Adam and Eve, Backwards ~ 4. The Seven Deadly Sins, Backwards.]1 [...]

[The Unsucky English Gilgamesh series so far: 1: Dangerous Questions ~ 2: The Day I Thought Gilgamesh Would Cost Me My Job ~ 3: this post~ 4. The Seven Deadly Sins, Backwards ~ 5. Good and Evil, Nature and the Hero - Backwards]

~     ~     ~

So there I was: caught, before all my new 14-year-old students’ eyes, with Enkidu’s pants down - and his mythic Sumerian wee-wee in hoo-hoos I knew nothing of.¹ And because so many of these Korean kids were evangelically Americanized, I wondered if it would cost me my job.

When we would come to Genesis later in the semester, I knew I’d be walking the netless tightrope over the heads of the many 14-year-olds who had predictably swallowed whole, since before their first teeth, their literalist childhood teachings about Adam, Eve, and the Six Days’ Creation.

But I had no idea I’d be dealing now, in tender Week Three of their high school careers, with this whopper of a sex scene between Shamhat, the temple prostitute, and Enkidu, the innocent, half-neanderthal and half-Adam “wild man” - and his jaw-dropping seven days’ erection: ²

Shamhat stripped off her robe and lay there naked,
with her legs apart, touching herself.
Enkidu saw her and warily approached.
He sniffed at the air. He gazed at her body.
He drew close. Shamhat touched him on the thigh,
touched his penis, and put him inside her.
She used her love-arts, she took his breath
with her kisses, held nothing back, and showed him
what a woman is. For seven days
he stayed erect and made love with her,
until he had had enough.³

Again, in the schooly translation I read when I was in high school, somebody had forgotten to include that part.

But the alley cats were out of the bag. Since we were all reading this translation for the first time together that night, half of my students were surely at that very moment in pop-eyed sync with me, “wtf?”-ing their margins and asking the same questions:

Would the “good people” students tell their parents? Were those parents emailing or calling the principal at the very moment we were all sitting there gawking at these lines? Tomorrow, when the monster lumbered into the school-building to corrupt their young, would a mob of torch-bearing parents send this poor, misunderstood Frankenfreak to his tragic end?

All that monster wanted was to give their kids the deepest, most relevant, coherent, and beautiful year of literary studies they would ever receive. And now, because of an unexpectedly graphic scene about what birds, bees, and each of these parents do - or did, at least once, when they made the shiny-eyed wonders brightening my classroom - would it all come down in flames?⁴

And would they make allowances for the fact that I first found the book in the school library? If I went down, should I bring the librarian with me? (Joking. Joking.)

I was jealous, suddenly, of math teachers. They never had problems like this.

But there was nothing to be done, for now, but finish the homework by finishing Book One. In the end, I realized, it all depended on whether these three-week-old high schoolers could handle it. I couldn’t wait to check the chapter annotations I’d assigned.

I finished the chapter and went to sleep.

The Next Day

“Beautiful.”

“Profound.”

“Deep.”

“Lovely.”

I couldn’t believe my eyes. All the students’ annotations sang this section’s praises. Not a single immature reaction.

I was so proud of them. And I was saved.

The class discussion was even better.

“It’s a different culture, so it’s not surprising that sex would be treated with a different outlook,” said one.

Answered another: “The sex scene itself is wonderful for its simple narration of the events we study in biology - the voice is so objective, it’s almost scientific.”

A third: “And that shows how radically different this culture saw sexuality. It’s just another thing in life, described as simply as the weather, or a flower, or a beautiful sunset. It’s not pornographic or anything. It’s just part of life.”

A fourth: “But it’s more than that.”

“Explain that,” I said. “What do you mean?”

This student went on to give the most perfect explication of what happens after the sex scene, and what a deep, beautiful, mysterious, and alien point of view the world’s earliest civilization had, 2,000 years before King David and 3,000 years before Jesus, about the meaning of sexuality.

Before Shamhat

“Look at what happens to Enkidu after the sex scene,” he said, “and compare it to who he was before it.

“Before it, Enkidu was this weird wild man, created by the goddess Aruru - in exactly the same way, by the way, that the later god of Genesis created Adam - from clay - which makes me wonder if this isn’t another Judeo-Christian-Islamic borrowing from the older Sumerian/Babylonian culture.

“He was ‘one-third man, two-thirds animal,’ remember: the perfect ‘double,’ just as the god Anu ordered, for the ‘one-third man, two-thirds divine‘ Gilgamesh. And I mean ‘perfect’ in the ‘balancing’ sense too. Remember, Anu said Gilgamesh’s ‘double’ should ‘balance’ him - to bring ‘peace’ to Uruk by making Gilgamesh stop snatching all the new brides from his subjects’ beds.

“But the ‘balancing’ doesn’t stop there,” he continued. “It gets deeper.”

“How?” asked another.

“Setting, basically. Gilgamesh is the king of the first city in the world, and he knows that and is proud of it. He’s proud of civilization.  I would argue he sort of symbolizes it.

“But the setting associated with Enkidu?  ‘Wilderness’ - Nature. Enkidu drinks with gazelles at watering holes, runs with them (and as fast as them), and knows nothing, literally, about cities and civilized humankind.

“So Enkidu ‘balances’ Gilgamesh by symbolizing Nature - the opposite of the city, and its civilization, which literally has a wall to keep Nature out.

“But it gets deeper still, this ‘balance.’ Because contrary to what we’d expect, ‘civilized’ Gilgamesh is not superior to ‘wild and natural’ Enkidu. We see that because Enkidu saves the other animals from the ‘civilized’ hunter’s traps. He’s compassionate, this natural man. And he’s innocent. Gilgamesh, though, is screwing the brides of every groom in town. The civilized king is glorious, yes - he built Uruk’s walls and is semi-divine, after all - but he’s also really flawed by his heartlessness. Enkidu ‘balances’ this, too.

“Finally,” he continued, “Enkidu ‘balances’ Gilgamesh in his physical strength. It’s like Achilles and Hector in the Iliad - perfectly matched superhero types. So that’s it: Aruru did a bang-up job of creating exactly what Anu ordered - a ‘balancing double’ to Gilgamesh.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. Who was this kid? I had to break in: “Did you steal my annotations?” I asked. “Who are you? I haven’t memorized all of your names yet.”

“Not now, Mr. B.,” he said. “I’m on a roll. Don’t interrupt. I’ve only covered the ‘before Shamhat’ Enkidu. I want to get to the ‘after Shamhat’ stuff now.”

Could I adopt this kid? Buy him from his parents? He was too good to believe.

“Wow. My apologies. Go for it.”

After Shamhat

“I’ll keep it short. It’s this: Gilgamesh’s mysterious ’solution’ to the ‘problem’ of the wild man worked brilliantly - though I don’t quite get why. Sex with this prostitute from the goddess Ishtar’s temple transforms Enkidu. And it does it in clear stages. I numbered them when I annotated.

“First, this sacred sex lifted him above the other animals that he used to hang out with. He doesn’t realize it - this is the weird thing - but the other animals do. They all run away from him when he tries to rejoin them at the watering hole.

“It’s mysterious, for sure,” he said, while I fought back exultations over this kid’s genius. “But the best guess I can give is this: All animals have sex, so it can’t be the simple sex that makes the other animals realize he’s no longer like them. So the only thing I can figure is that the poet is trying to say that sex seen as a holy thing - initiation into Ishtar’s mysteries, maybe? - is what separates man from animal. Seen this way, it’s not a brute act with Shamhat.

“And did you notice,” he went on, “that thing where Enkidu tries to run after the fleeing animals - before Shamhat, he was as fast as them, remember - but now he can’t catch up with them? Where is it . . . . yeah, here:

He tried to catch up
but his body was exhausted, his life-force was spent,
his knees trembled, he could no longer run
like an animal [he emphasized this line], as he had before.

–doesn’t that remind you of the story of Samson and Delilah in the Bible? It did me. I tell you, Mr. B., you’re right about that one. You see a million things in Gilgamesh that you thought were unique to the Bible. My preacher says the Bible is ‘the word of God.’ Well if that’s true, God sure seemed to plagiarize a lot from the Sumerians and Babylonians.

“But he also reverses them. Because in the Bible, Delilah is bad for Samson, while in Gilgamesh, Shamhat is good for Enkidu.”

“I never thought of that,” said another. “I think I see what you’re saying.”

“Yeah. It’s all there. The next thing that happens because of Shamhat is deeper still: Enkidu realizes - where is it -

‘his mind had somehow grown larger.
He knew things now that an animal can’t know.’

“So what are these things he ‘knew’? It doesn’t say. But it reminds me of the scene in Genesis where Adam and Eve eat the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, and it doesn’t tell us what they learned either. All it does is show us that they covered their private parts.

“But here, they don’t cover anything, and no god gets angry. Instead, Enkidu just keeps transforming. Since the bell’s about to ring, I’ll rush: the next thing he learns sitting ‘at Shamhat’s feet’ is language and communication:

‘He understood all the words she was speaking to him.’

“And man, those words were interesting:

‘Now, Enkidu, you know what it is
to be with a woman, to unite with her.
You are beautiful, you are like a god.’

“‘You are like a god‘” he repeated. “So what’s happening here? Gilgamesh is ‘two-thirds god,’ remember. Is it okay, Mr. B., to read into this that sex with Shamhat maybe makes Enkidu less of a ‘balance’ to Gilgamesh now?”

“It’s okay to read anything you want into it, as long as you can justify your interpretation with good evidence. And you’re doing fine so far.”

“Because I was thinking that again, it was Gilgamesh that sent Shamhat in the first place. He wants to bring Enkidu over to his ‘civilized’ side. And it seems like it worked.”

“How?”

“Because the next thing that happens is that Shamhat tells Enkidu that he should not ‘roam the wilderness and live like an animal,’ but should instead come with her to Uruk, to Ishtar’s temple, and to Gilgamesh’s palace. And he goes. Because of Shamhat, a temple prostitute, Enkidu is no longer an animal. He’s closer to the gods now; and because of Shamhat, Enkidu is about to become civilized.

“And that’s like Adam and Eve upside-down and inside-out.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“It’s obvious,” he said. “Eve seduced Adam and the result was God’s curse. Shamhat seduced Enkidu and the result was Ishtar’s blessings of godliness and civilization for Enkidu.”

“Strictly speaking, weren’t Adam and Eve cursed for disobeying their God?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “But it’s still pretty opposite. After all, the gods here aren’t giving any orders at all - the absence of orders is the opposite of their presence, right? - and the result of the seduction is a blessing, the opposite of a curse.”

“Maybe,” I said. “We’ll see what happens. It’s been ten years at least since I read this story, remember - and I’ve never read this version, either. I’ve forgotten most of it. So I’m as clueless as you about what will happen next.”

“There’s just one thing I wanted to ask, though,” he said.

“Shoot.”

“The plot’s really weird. The gods create Enkidu to make Gilgamesh change his ways.  But now, instead, we see Enkidu changing, not Gilgamesh. What’s going on?”

“It’s a mystery to me, too. We’ll see. But you left one thing out.”

“What?”

“You didn’t mention the last way that Enkidu changed: when Shamhat described Gilgamesh to him, isn’t his reaction confusing? The narrator tells us Enkidu ‘felt‘ something ‘deep in his heart . . . . the longing for a true friend.’ So that’s one more point for your theory that Shamhat civilizes him - he wants to escape his solitude and join human society, enjoy friendship.

“Again, that’s what he felt. But what he says is totally unexpected:

‘Take me with you
to . . . the palace of Gilgamesh the mighty king.
I will challenge him. I will shout to his face:
I am the mightiest! I am the man
who can make the world tremble. I am supreme!’

“Those hardly sound like words of friendship to me,” I said. “So maybe the gods’ plan for Gilgamesh is not as off-track as it seems.”

End of Class

The bell rang.  I turned off the alarm, and rose to get ready for work. An interesting bit of fantasy that was. “Too good to believe” indeed? I could only hope. I’d find out after the shower and drive to work.

~     ~     ~

Just kidding. I wouldn’t pull that on you. Here’s the real story:

Most of the annotations from the girls in the class were minor variations on: “ewwwww.” Sometimes three w’s, sometimes ten.

The boys? Smiley faces in the margins.

I wonder if those gender reactions for this age group are cross-culturally similar, or different. And I don’t know.

I imagine I tried to elicit discussions like the points made by the dream student above.

When I explained to them that I was as shocked as they were to read the scene, and was afraid they wouldn’t be able to handle it, they all assured me it was unexpected, yes, but nothing they hadn’t seen before online, on TV, in the movies.

“But it was weird to see it in English class.”

~     ~     ~

Can You Take a Minute?

If anybody has made it this far, I’d appreciate feedback on the three approaches I’ve tried so far in this Gilgamesh series. Number One was straight lecture style; Number Two was told as a “teacher story,” but in the second-person “you” point of view - I wondered if that would make the experience more immediate for readers, but also feared it might get old, especially if I continued it for months. This one was still a “teacher story,” but told in first person, with heavy Socratic dialogue.

If any of you care to share which of the three you think I should stick with, I’d be very appreciative.

Photos:
Belly-Dancer by macwagen
Bizarro World © DC Comics,
used under Fair Use Law

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If you like this post, please spread it: (But don't tag it "education." That will bury it.)

1. I stole this “wee-wee/hoo-hoo” line from Bill Maher’s brilliant “New Rules” rant about how American Puritanism silenced John Edwards, the most important voice for the poor “since Robert Kennedy,” per Maher. It’s very relevant to the discussions we’re having in this series.
2. And did I later joke in class, “This guy’s a walking Viagra commercial”? Or, “And you thought the Six Days’ Creation was impressive”? Or, “Talk about needing a rest on the seventh day”?  I don’t remember. But if asked, please say that I did.
3. all excerpts taken from Stephen Mitchell’s admirable 2004 translation of Gilgamesh.
4. If you think I’m exaggerating, check out this and this from readers who have seen it happen to other teachers.

---

33 Comments

• At September 4, 2008, The Day I Thought Gilgamesh Would Cost Me My Job | Beyond School wrote:

  [...] [The Unsucky English series so far: Gilgamesh 1: Dangerous Questions ~ 2: This Post ~ 3: Adam and Eve in Bizarro-World] [...]

• At September 4, 2008, Unsucky English, Lecture 1: On Gilgamesh | Beyond School wrote:

  [...] [This post had major problems in its original draft. I heavily edited it for all you stumblers. Subsequent posts in this series: 2. The Day I Thought Gilgamesh Would Cost Me My Job, a serious farce ~ 3: Adam and Eve in Bizarro-World] [...]

• At September 4, 2008, Narro87 wrote:

  Your posts on this topic are absolutely wonderful! It's a highlight of my day to see another ready to be read. Keep up the amazing work! And as for your style, simply do what's more natural in your mind--all of them are very effective and very engaging.

• At September 4, 2008, Clay Burell wrote:

  Thanks for that. Please spread the word. I'm possibly losing a lot of readers uncomfortable with this series. I'd love to find new ones who might appreciate it. :)

• At September 4, 2008, Jack641 wrote:

  Came across your site quite by accident but I've read up on the Gilgamesh series you've had going here. This is some really great stuff; everything so far has been easy to read and fascinating at the same time. I had a teacher in high school who would teach a bit like this, and he really opened my eyes to a lot of things. Surprisingly, no one ever gave him any trouble for challenging us and making us uncomfortable with our preconceived ideas, even though we went to a catholic high school.

  Anyway, reading stuff like this makes me think about a career change. Keep it up; I'll be reading.

• At September 4, 2008, Alyce wrote:

  I stumbled upon the first lecture in this series and have since added your blog to Google Reader. I am loving it!

  I must say that I enjoyed the first post's format the most. With the latter two, the story of Gilgamesh seemed to get lost in the story you were creating of the classroom. We are the students, and I think your brilliance has a better chance of standing out if your writing takes the form of a lecture. Believe me: your thoughts can stand on their own!

  My two cents. :)

• At September 4, 2008, Louise Maine wrote:

  I particularly cared for the third followed closely by the first. Love the posts and will be coming back to them when life is less hectic to digest further. Religion, science... great fuel for the mind...

  Louise Maines last blog post..Wiki woman?

• At September 4, 2008, Hannah wrote:

  Hello!

  I particularly liked the writing style of this one. The first one was enjoyably readable as well, but the second I couldn't finish - wayyyy too much teacher-jargon on how to teach a subject. I was lost.

  I guess I should actually get a copy of this book before continuing... :D

  Hannahs last blog post..What I'm Going To Do With My Life

• At September 4, 2008, Jazzyblueteach wrote:

  The third was definitely my favorite of the three, but you killed me when that alarm went off! Don't ever ruin a perfectly good dream again! I was in awe of this boy wonder and then you had to go and wake up. For shame!!

  Ok, I can say this much. The version I am being forced to read for this Babylon class is not even close to as much fun. I am tempted to suggest a text change. Of course I can read what I want and no one will ever be the wiser. :)

• At September 4, 2008, Clay Burell wrote:

  Your teacher was a lucky person.

  If you're thinking of going into teaching because of me, that's ironic - I just left it :)

  School-teaching, anyway.

• At September 4, 2008, Clay Burell wrote:

  Thank for that, Alyce.

  I hear you on diluting the message with stories from the classroom.

  I think I just wanted to paint a picture of the silly but very real fears teachers have because of all these social forces at play in schools.

  Now that I've got that out of my system, I'll probably do as you suggest for most future posts.

  Thanks again.

• At September 4, 2008, Clay Burell wrote:

  Louise, Hannah, Jazzy,

  Thanks for the feedback.

  Without being defensive at all (I'm really not), it's ironic that my own favorite so far is the second one - "The Day I Thought Gilgamesh Would Cost Me My Job."

  I think it has something to do with the set-up via the Sedaris stories. That "seeing with your ears" syndrome is so real, and Sedaris proves it with "Us and Them" (and what a pregnant title).

  But I know, anyway, that I'm pulled in two directions at least when writing these: to write for the old "edublogger" audience that I said (and meant) I was bored writing for; versus to write for students anywhere.

  I'll figure it out (or not).

  Hey, Jazzy, what translation are you reading? A.R. George? Mitchell has taken some heat for his liberties. He claims to have based them on the most accurate translations - and George's is acknowledged to be that - but others charge him with too much lassitude at times.

  It would be interesting to hear what your prof thought of the Mitchell translation - would love a report back if you do :)

• At September 4, 2008, Tim wrote:

  Hi Clay.

  All of the posts so far are fascinating, but I have to say the first was my favourite, stylistically-speaking, but then I'm neither a student (currently) nor a teacher so maybe I'm not your intended audience.

  In any case, I'm loving this series and can't wait to see where you take it next. Keep up the good work!

  Tims last blog post..http://caananite.stumbleupon.com/review/24728827/

• At September 5, 2008, Michael Doyle wrote:

  I loved all three, but I enjoyed the second the most. I could analyze all the reasons why I love blueberries, too, but I come here to be entertained.

  (I enjoyed the third, and maybe I am too naive, but I've had the rare kid take off in thought in science, and I was going to compare notes, then you woke up. That hurt.)

  Any sort of well-crafted Socratic dialogue is always welcome. (Works well in the class once kids get used to it, but it leaves them a bit exposed. I have to work hard to erase any hint of "aha!" when using it--but if I can get the dialogue going on in their heads after class, I've done my job.)

  Michael Doyles last blog post..First day of school, biology (sophomores)

• At September 6, 2008, Uniasus wrote:

  Well, I totally wish I had you as a teacher in high school. I haven't actually read Gilgamesh, but have always wanted to get my hands on it. I'm enjoying your series immensely, and as for the feedback you requested I liked the second one the least. It might be because I find it hard to imagine myself as a high school freshmen. Personally, I enjoyed your latest edition the best. It was amusing at times, the dialog certainly broke things up and made it less daunting to read, but the information still got across. Your first installment wasn't bad either. I could picture a professor pacing the classroom and accenting his lecture with dramatic hand gestures. That lecture would have stuck.

• At September 6, 2008, Ted Mateoc wrote:

  I stumbled upon this blog, and I really enjoyed reading it.

  Speaking as a current student in high school in NYC, I really enjoyed the Socratic dialogue in this post. The first post and the second post also made incredibly stimulating late-night reading; however, I liked exploring the implications of the main characters' actions.

  What you said concerning indoctrination in your first post really struck a chord with me. Last year, for example, I had an English teacher who was a very nice person, but extremely...in touch with modern ideals, to put it nicely. For example, when we read Gabriel Garcia Marquez's "Chronicle of a Death Foretold," she refused to accept the idea of moral relativism, and that different cultures will have different takes on (among other things) honor killings. And she also exaggerated when grading papers; one time I lost a full 4 points on a paper because I used the term "mankind" instead of "humankind" - she commented that it was a "dangerous term" to use.

  Oh, and I don't know if you've seen

  http://www.somethingawful.com/d/news/ap-reading-exam.php already, but I can actually picture some of my English teachers taking that approach. I found it funny - I hope you will, too.

• At September 6, 2008, Agnes wrote:

  I liked the first straight lecture style. I like to feel like I'm being taught something and not just mildly entertained.

  Keep up the good work though. :)

• At September 7, 2008, Bunny got Blog wrote:

  Well I stumbled upon you literally. I enjoyed all three and my favorite is Lecture 3.

  Keep up the great work.

  Bunny got Blogs last blog post..Bunny’s Bucket List - In Celebration of Dave Freeman’s Life

• At September 7, 2008, diane wrote:

  Never thought about it this way before, but Eden was a "wilderness". No original sin, no journey into the larger world and the future...including technology.

  In Adam's fall,

  Benefited we all

  dianes last blog post..Classroom Rules Part 2

• At September 7, 2008, Michael Doyle wrote:

  [F*ck technology, the internet just ate my last response. And that I am even responding here highlights my hypocrisy. Read at your own risk.]

  Ahem. Of course Eden was "wilderness", that's the beauty of The Fall.

  No original sin, no journey into the "larger" civilized world, an arc that will, I suspect, end disastrously in the next few hundred years. I'm thinking your sympathies lie on the other side of the fence.

  At 3 AM, when a tropical storm howls over my roof, the electricity fails, I (for a moment) can imagine my mortality. I glimpse wilderness, and lulled by my belief in technology and immortality, I fall into an abyss, a Nietzschean nightmare where god is dead, and I have nothing left to hold.

  Before the apple, Adam and his love were in the wilderness, with boundaries. (Clay talks of happiness and limits in an earlier post--reduce the options, and people smile.) Adam dared to eat from the Tree of Knowledge, and got tossed out of the garden.

  Eden was indeed a wilderness without a "future," just the herenow. Before Constantine and his ilk defiled what was worthwhile in the Christian sect, the focus was on the herenow.

  Should Clay live long enough, I hope he tackles the Tree of Knowledge and original sin. (Yeah, I know, ClayClayClayClay, but it is his blog). Clay has bitten me on the nose for my occasional lapses into irrationality, but he gets the gist of the question, and I may be one of the few westerners left who think maybe Adam should have left that apple alone.

  Clay's discussion on Gilgamesh has strengthened my resolve.

  I would gladly trade technology, even my indoor toilet, for that peek into the web of wilderness we are all a part of. We lost our way once we put knowledge above wisdom.

  (Yes, Clay, I'm overstating my case. Still, we need some kind of substitute for that Man With The White Beard, some formal way to acknowledge our limits of knowledge. Many Westerners (particularly those with any power)would not recognize hubris if it smacked them in the nose.)

  I'm ranting. I'll stop.

  But maybe, just maybe, Adam screwed up.

  Michael Doyles last blog post..Science, dogma, and the American Way

• At September 7, 2008, Clay Burell wrote:

  Hi Michael -

  I think the "F-bomb" may have thrown you into the spam bucket. (And you know I don't mind colorful language, but I don't think I've ever tossed an F-bomb in these pages, probably out of some hangover from Camp Joy.)

  I take it the bulk of this comment is a reply to Diane, commenting above you?

  As for the rest, I'll only ask you to hold on and be patient. We're only approaching Book Two of Gilgamesh, and by the end, I think you'll find it a pretty superior substitute for the Man in the Gray Beard - the teacher with all the rules and schooliest god I've ever had the displeasure of meeting.

  Seriously, I think you'll be impressed by the way the "Nature v. Civilization" theme plays out in this oldest book.

  And Michael, I've never bitten you in the nose or anywhere else. At most, I've rubbed you behind the ears. As you have me.

• At September 7, 2008, Clay Burell wrote:

  Thanks Bunny. It's interesting getting instant reader feedback. Lots of cognitive dissonance, which isn't necessarily bad. What a new world for writers :)

• At September 7, 2008, Clay Burell wrote:

  Thank you, Ted. I love the link and hope others follow it for a good sad laugh.

  You point to a variation of schooliness I haven't dwelt on much - the teacher who actually docks you for any "critical thinking" that differs from his/hers. Ugh. I would have fought her on the "mankind" thing, though I'm sympathetic enough to her argument. Half a grade is a harsh way to make a feminist point about terminology.

  Thanks for your help re: style, too. Hope you comment again soon, as seriously, I'm trying to stay true to the intended audience, which is people like you.

• At September 7, 2008, Clay Burell wrote:

  The only problem I have with that argument is that the wilderness has no authoritarian rules telling the wild-life what it "shalt and shalt not" do.

  Eden seemed more a sort of theocratic monarchy with Adam and Eve as the lucky goat-herds. They didn't have to worry about predators, foraging, inclement weather, shelter, etc, because it was a fairy land of nude-friendly weather, always-fruitful trees, and toothless lions, etc.

  The "fortunate fall" thing is very Milton. I've always liked Blake for calling the entire notion of an angry god and a guilty humanity as an "invisible worm" that makes us all "sick roses." (That's my reading, anyway, of the great Billie Blake.)

• At September 7, 2008, diane wrote:

  Ah, but you know my feelings on this

  http://tinyurl.com/22wrqw

  Better to have sinned and known

  Than never to have known at all

  dianes last blog post..Transformation

• At September 12, 2008, Unsucky English, Lecture 4: The Blessings of the Flesh (Gilgamesh, Book Two) | Beyond School wrote:

  [...] Dangerous Questions ~ Gilgamesh 2: The Day I Thought Gilgamesh Would Cost Me My Job ~ Gilgamesh 3: Adam and Eve, Backwards (Book [...]

• At September 13, 2008, Peter wrote:

  Awesome posts, really peaked my interest. I really dug the style in the first one, I wish I had a teacher like you in high school!

• At September 14, 2008, Charlie A. Roy wrote:

  I think I need to reread Gilgamesh. I don't remember it being so entertaining during high school.

  Charlie A. Roys last blog post..The Debate on Drug Testing

• At September 16, 2008, Shannon wrote:

  Clay,

  I am currently living in Wichita Falls, TX, getting my Master's in Curriculum and Instruction. I hope to be teaching high school English by Fall of next year. That said, I have been trying to catch up on all the reading I know I should do, and your series of Gilgamesh has been absolutely lovely! I have never even heard of it before, can you believe that?! Now I want to read it on top of my 18 hours of graduate course work. Posts 1 and 3 were my favorite, but your writing style is so amazing and clear that any way you post will bring new insights and ideas. Thank you for your wonderful reads.

  -Shannon

• At September 16, 2008, Clay Burell wrote:

  Shannon, it's weird that we in the West fairly ignore the first half of recorded history - I mean the Sumerian and Egyptian above all (not to mention the Chinese, who've been literate for 5,000 continuous years, if memory serves, without any of the "dark ages" breaking Western literacy in Greece for 400 years, and Europe during the Medieval Period - and China's rightly proud of that, I learned while living there).

  We seem to act like civilization started with the Greeks and Hebrews, when they're really at the mid-way point. It's just weird.

  Anyway, this is a horribly convoluted comment. Tired. Just wanted to say thanks, really, for the kind words. And good luck in the classroom (hint: those Sedaris stories mentioned in Lecture 2 are great light vehicles for heavy lessons).

• At September 21, 2008, speroni wrote:

  There were rules in the Eden wilderness before civilization. The punishments were pretty harsh, by and large breaking a rule means death. They weren't authoritarian rules though. They're more subtle than that. I don't want to say the rules were as simple as kill or be killed, but one did have to learn how to survive. The rules kind of revolved around a limited aggression pact. You have to hunt to eat, but you can't go crazy and start killing all willy-nilly. Even with other tribes, you have to fight to protect your territory but it doesn't work well to go commit genocide either. I think one theme in the garden of Eden was when Adam and Eve broke these rules. Not the rule of God says don't eat this apple, but the rules that people had been living by to keep in balance with nature for the hundreds of thousands of years before our brand of civilization came along. Since then we've extinct how many species? Polluted how much of the planet? Our society may well come crashing down around our ears in the next few hundred years. Perhaps not, we do have a pretty good track record for pulling through.

  At the same time there's this idea of the noble savage. That these ancient tribes had more virtue than current humans. I don't know about this, there was still murder and adultery in tribal life. On the other hand it really meant something to be part of your community, not to have it was death. Now, I don't even know my neighbors.

  Still its not the technology thats to blame. Humans a hundred thousand years ago still had tools. Thats part of what defines being human, thumbs are cool. (Aaayyyeeee!) This doesn't take us out of the web of nature though. I own a computer but I was made the same way that all animals are made. I'm at a point in my life where I'm considering making some of my own. Am I less of an animal because I can do this on a space age memory-foam mattress? I'm well aware that I'll be returning to the earth as well. I accept that. I don't envy those who live long enough to make it into nursing homes. I know if you were to ask me at any given moment if I was ok with dying right now, the answer is always going to be no, but in the general sense I'm ok with it. All that and I don't even believe in God. Or if there is something that powerful out there he's literally beyond our comprehension. Its not some father figure with a swishy white beard who wants to save me. (Or in my case condemn me.)

  (I've just ordered my very own copy of Gilgamesh. From stone tablets to amazon.com)

  speronis last blog post..Spore

• At September 21, 2008, speroni wrote:

  I like the style in part one. Sounds more like you're talking to me directly, more engaging. The others were good stories, but felt more like being told a story with its own conclusion and less like a conversation that is starting out.

• At October 1, 2008, Chris wrote:

  I wouldn't worry about picking just one style for all of this. The content is superb. I like the variety in style. Keep it up.

  I don't recommend using this as a venue for extreme experimentation with style, but I do suggest keeping things varied. Your writing has thus far been easy to read, regardless of the style. The variety makes reading the pieces all in one go more pleasant than if they all shared the same tone.

[The Unsucky English Gilgamesh series so far: 1: Dangerous Questions ~ 2: this post ~ 3: Adam and Eve, Backwards ~ 4. The Seven Deadly Sins, Backwards ~ 5. Good and Evil, Nature and the Hero - Backwards.]

[Note: This and the next post take a detour from "lecture" to "story-telling." Gilgamesh is still the focus, but I want to show with these two posts the ridiculous pressures teachers are under to not offend anyone when trying to teach classic literature. I'll return to lecture mode in post #4.]

~     ~     ~

So you’re in Week Three of your two World Literature classes for those wonderful, squeaky-clean ninth-graders.¹

You spent Week One warming them up with a couple of fun David Sedaris shorts.  “Big Boy” - the story of Sedaris’ epic Easter Sunday struggle to flush someone else’s stuck turd down the toilet, so the person waiting outside the door won’t think it was his - is only a page and a half long, and is suitably light and hilarious for a first read. It’s also the perfect story to trot out for the lesson on plot.

And schooliness aside, it serves to start the conversation about how real literature finds grist for its alchemical mill everywhere, from the ridiculous to the sublime, and is not the trite moralistic stuff they’ve probably been taught to believe it is in k-8 English classes.²

“From the bathroom to the bedroom to the throne of God,” you intone, “literature knows no limits. Get used to it. You’re in high school now.”

Sedaris’ “Us and Them”³ is equally fun but infinitely more subtle, with its narrator making his bad self seem good and his good enemy seem bad, and is another perfect vehicle for trotting out the “unreliable narrator” lesson:⁴

“Beware of the authority of the author, kids,” you warn them, “in every book you read and speech you hear - including mine.

Suspect the narrator.

This story’s narrator made a fool of you. Worse yet, he made you a hateful fool.

Sedaris showed you that narrator was a hateful ass, but had his narrator tell you that he was the good guy.  Sedaris also showed you a good, kind character,  but had his narrator tell you this kind person was the bad guy.  And every one of you believed the narrator instead of your own eyes.

You followed the bad guy, and joined him in hating the good guy. All because you are suckers who trust the authority of the written word.

Look how dangerous books are, how books can blind you if you don’t think. Sedaris just showed you that books can turn you into hateful followers of hateful writers - while all the while thinking you’re the “good people.”

Can you think of any other books that do that?  They surround us. Maybe you’ll notice them after experiencing this story. But you probably won’t.

Learn from it. It’s probably the most important lesson anybody could ever teach you in