mastabas-and-mushussu - Behold! Let there be nerd rants.
Behold! Let there be nerd rants.

A blog full of Mesopotamian Polytheism, anthropology nerdery, and writer moods. Devotee of Nisaba. Currently obsessed with: the Summa Perfectionis.

987 posts

Inro To Sumer 101

Inro to Sumer 101

In, two, three, four, Out, two, three, four.

Alright. I want you to do a little thought experiment with me, if you would. I'm no good at guided meditation or making an engaging essay without tangents. What I can do is write. I can, if only for a moment, show you a different perspective.

So I want you to breathe, and I want you to feel the dust beneath your feet.

The sun is high and blazing against the dust of the road, glaring against the side of mud brick walls. The air is too dry on your tongue, but the shadows are cool, and the narrow jumble of alleys limits the reach of the sun's claws. A shoulder knocks into you, children ducking past your hips, someone's balancing a thick clay pot on their head, there are people everywhere flowing through the strangled capillaries of the city and dozens of black-haired heads bobbing past narrow doorways. The dust of the road grinds beneath your sandal. You duck past a few clusters of people and a snogging couple to take a few well-travelled haphazard alleys, and pop out on the edge of town to get your bearings as you shade your blinking eyes.

Deeper into the city rises a mountain of power, rising towards the sky like the swell of the sea. Three tiered layers of raw labor and artistic skill, several tons of brick gleaming with glaze like fine lapis-lazuli and crowned with a searingly white temple. This is the ziggurat connecting heaven and earth. It's also, conveniently, the best landmark in town. Given the angle, the temple lands given to sharecropping and pasture are probably behind you.

That business is where the money is, and you'd probably have done better for yourself if you'd taken that road. You didn't have the financial backing to try for scribal school, though your mother keeps talking about trying to marry you into a family that can afford it. It sounds easier than basket-making, anyway.

Bearings found, you make your way back into the tangle of streets again at a light jog, dust puffing over your sandals. Your purse thumps lightly against your hip, silver coils jingling a little, and you press a hand down to keep them quiet. First order of business is....

The crush of people thickens, thickens, and then relaxes as the space widens. The market is a clutter of pots, goats, people, and shouting, sweat and hot dust thick on the air. Bright textiles glare brilliantly from two or three stalls, a pile of clucking cages a few feet from where you're standing. Determined, you duck into the throng. Pottery stall, carpenter's stall, foreign spices, baskets of fish glittering in the afternoon sun. Finally, you spot the mason's shop and struggle past a knot of unmarried girls eyeing the fisher's boy. This stall isn't as claustrophobic, but there are one or two people lingering. The mason with worn hands and deeply wrinkled eyes looks up and smiles. Most of what's on display are little statues. People, animals, even a beautiful flat carving of a reed boat. You explain what you need, and he produces a tiny basalt dog the size of your fist from a basket. You bring out the coil of metal, break off a few rings, and hand them over. He weighs them, nods, and pulls out a few tools to write "For the life of Eman" on the base. That done, you take your purchase with gratitude and start the long jog to the temple gates.

Eman has been sick for a week or so, sweating and coughing until she choked, but the demon had finally left her and you know exactly who to thank for her survival.

Winding alleys, dust, chatter, dogs and children getting underfoot, and your thighs burn a little from the uphill work but you finally make it. The temple grounds are busy too, but there's more order to it. It's also a lot... cleaner than what you're used to.

A priest spots you lingering hesitantly at the gates of the temple district and comes to meet you. You explain that this dog statue is an offering to the goddess Gula, pass over a few rings of silver, and the priest takes it with a small smile and well-wishes for your family. You watch him go, the swish of his robes disappearing through a doorway, and breathe a long sigh.

It's done. Better get moving if you want to stop by the baker's before the dinner rush.

Separation of church and state is a relatively modern thing, and the temple in ancient Sumer was also heavily involved in local business. The most wealthy businessmen? Ranchers and farmers. Lahar and Ashnan, the goddesses of livestock and grain respectively, were very minor but very essential to Sumerian life. You can read about them in the Debate between Sheep and Grain. For more about ranchers and farmers, see Inanna Chooses the Farmer. As for illness, that was usually either demons/ghosts/spirits acting out, or acting in line with a decree from the gods. Here we have someone thanking the healing goddess. Most people never actually entered a temple beyond the courtyard, and definitely not if they were ill. The logic is probably to keep the demon from latching on to anyone else, spreading the virus or what have you.

We know very little of how home shrines functioned, so most modern Sumerian Polytheists downsize the formal temple rituals we have record of. Again, most people weren't actually priests, so we can't exactly put a cycling shifts on our altars or sing praises every hour on the hour. Temples had staff for a reason, and we're only a scattered few. But Mesopotamia was the root of civilization, and the gods govern the gears that keep progress going. From the most essential basics of grain and livestock, to the costly luxury of schooling, the gods have a presence in our lives. We are our own, but we also belong to the gods, and what they ask in return for their sponsorship is service. You can read more about it in Enki and Ninmah, and Enki and the World Order. Do the gods absolutely require our service, are they dependent on us? No. But just like we prefer grocery shopping to hunting and gathering, the gods like offerings. Our personal gods look over our shoulders, our city gods look over our community. Sometimes demons muck things up. Sometimes we muck things up, and that gives demons all the excuse they need to remind us that we're only human. And we are only human. We struggle, we spit, we steal, we tangle in the nets and drown.

But the world order still remains. It's existed for centuries in many forms, beneath all of the bells and whistles we've embroidered it with. Through respect and basic human decency you can earn quite a bit more than you might think. Sumerian Polytheism is about the little links that tie us together. Even I, a jobless urban hermit, have a toe in the water, and my actions ripple outward through the sea of civilization, no matter how small.

Take a look at who you are, your talents, your potential, and chase everything you could be with everything that you are. Be the best you. You've heard it in a thousand platitudes, in a thousand Hallmark cards, probably from your parents at some point. There's a reason for that. Carpe diem. Do the thing, because the worst sort of disappointment is letting yourself down. Don't take yourself for granted, and I have a hunch that the gods won't either.

That's my introduction to Sumerian Polytheism.

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More Posts from Mastabas-and-mushussu

6 years ago

Does Sharur count? He's Ninurta's magical talking mace that apparently has a human body. Somehow.

hey LevPag, let me show you the thing that currently makes me want to throw my computer:

Hey LevPag, Let Me Show You The Thing That Currently Makes Me Want To Throw My Computer:

this is RS 4.474, an Ugaritic “deity list.” This particular page comes from Pardee’s Ritual and Cult at Ugarit. Lines 12-19 refer to a list of Ilu’s instruments; what’s not fully understood, thanks to bn in line 19, is if these are “sons” of Ilu or creations of Ilu. bn is a fairly common title that is often translated as son, but can also be interpreted as build/create, as Pardee has written above.

If bn in line 19 is translated as sons, then these instruments are divine - gods, in fact, as this is a cultic list. there are other gods whose domain or origin is derived from an object - namely, Uthatu (Censer) and Kinnaru (Lyre). Wyatt in Word of Tree and Whisper of Stone lists Ilu’s instruments as deities, along with “big” gods like Ilu and Athirat, while Pardee remains uncertain. 

i’m currently compiling different interpretations of the Ugaritic deity lists, including Pardee and Wyatt’s interpretations, and the “divinized objects” like Ilu’s instruments are really throwing me for a loop. i’d love to hear other people’s opinions on the topic of divine objects! do you consider Hadad’s weapons spirits/gods? Ilu’s instruments? how do you translate bn? do you know of other instances of divinized weapons/objects, Canaanite or not?

6 years ago

I am a pagan. I am not a Wiccan, a witch, a devil-worshipper, a LARPer, or a fortune teller. I don't wear a pentacle or follow an "earth centered" religion. I am not a hippie. I am not a vegan. But also, I do not sacrifice goats. I do not participate in orgies or dance skyclad in the woods. I don't do love potions or hexes. I definitely don't kill people, and there is no religious compulsion to ever start. I don't take hallucinogenic or illegal drugs. I am not part of a coven. I am not part of a cult. I have read the Bible. I have read physics, psychology and philosophy textbooks. My soul is my own business, I appreciate all well-meant prayers, I do believe in my gods, and I owe no one any proof. My beliefs and experiences can only be related by my own mouth, and you don't have to agree with it. I could be wrong. You could be wrong. If we're going by majority rule, then the afterlife likely has been given to mosquitoes or dinosaurs. Your soul is your own business, too. It's not my place to tell you what to do with it, or even to convince you that it exists.

I am a polytheist. A Sumerian Reconstrustionist and devotee of Nisaba, the scribe goddess, if we're being fancy about it. The term might have changed since I last blinked, the community is still evolving. I burn incense and give offerings of food and water on my altar. I cheerfully drive around a greedy diesel-devouring bug. Most of my time is spent avoiding going outside. The one thing I can reliably do in a kitchen is bake, otherwise I'm hopeless. I guess I do fit some stereotypes, because I'm LGBT+. I think crystals are cool, but I'm skeptical about the whole auras and vibrations business. Same with herbs. I do "cast a circle", but it's more purifying the area with holy water than calling corners. And no, I don't mean holy water from the local Catholic shop. I make my own. Yes, that's possible. No, I'm not a priestess. That would require... I dunno, a group? There are barely enough Sumerians in North America to fill a teacup, and of those I'm closer to a grasshopper than a veteran. I certainly didn't come to this religion for the booming community.

I came to this religion partially because I'm a myth nerd and I stumbled over it, partially because everyone needs something higher than their own ego, and partially because I remember a self-help book saying religion is a good thing if your life is a trainwreck. I stayed because for once in my life, I feel like I truly belong. I belong to a purpose. I am accepted. I am, in fact, encouraged to embrace my fullest potential. Fate is not set in stone. It's not quite as malleable as gold, either. There is a plan, there is a world order, and the best thing any one human can do is take full advantage of the gifts the gods have given and run full-tilt into self improvement, bettering the community, taking a moment to remember to be grateful. If you run into trouble and have no one to turn to, the gods are there. I don't recommend whining about every stubbed toe or rude driver on the highway, but if you're in pain there is someone who can help. Granted, they don't owe you anything. If you don't take the time to build a relationship, they might not even hear you. All worthwhile ventures cost some effort, though. Give and take, give and appreciate, give and celebrate. Death is inevitable and life can be hell, but to some extent life is also what you make of it.

My life just happens to involve a lot more flour and honey than it used to, and a lot less anxiety. Works out pretty well, I say.


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6 years ago

Reschedule using birth control pills?

I gotta look up if I can do offerings on my period for the ‘Iluma. 

I think the answer is no because you can’t be bleeding. 

But like. My cycle runs exactly on the Full Moon. I’ve never been late a day in my life, full moon on the dot. 

How can I give offerings on Mlatu (full moon) >.>

Dang mother nature

Wisdom help

6 years ago

Praise be to the Lady who gladdens the heart, am I right?

A Hymn to Ninkasi (goddess of beer)

1-4 Given birth by the flowing water ……, tenderly cared for by Ninhursaja! Ninkasi, given birth by the flowing water ……, tenderly cared for by Ninhursaja!

5-8 Having founded your town upon wax, she completed its great walls for you. Ninkasi, having founded your town upon wax, she completed its great walls for you.

9-12 Your father is Enki, the lord Nudimmud, and your mother is Ninti, the queen of the abzu. Ninkasi, your father is Enki, the lord Nudimmud, and your mother is Ninti, the queen of the abzu.

13-16 It is you who handle the …… and dough with a big shovel, mixing, in a pit, the beerbread with sweet aromatics. Ninkasi, it is you who handle the …… and dough with a big shovel, mixing, in a pit, the beerbread with sweet aromatics.

17-20 It is you who bake the beerbread in the big oven, and put in order the piles of hulled grain. Ninkasi, it is you who bake the beerbread in the big oven, and put in order the piles of hulled grain.

21-24 It is you who water the earth-covered malt; the noble dogs guard it even from the potentates (?). Ninkasi, it is you who water the earth-covered malt; the noble dogs guard it even from the potentates (?).

25-28 It is you who soak the malt in a jar; the waves rise, the waves fall. Ninkasi, it is you who soak the malt in a jar; the waves rise, the waves fall.

29-32 It is you who spread the cooked mash on large reed mats; coolness overcomes ……. Ninkasi, it is you who spread the cooked mash on large reed mats; coolness overcomes …….

33-36 It is you who hold with both hands the great sweetwort, brewing it with honey and wine. Ninkasi, it is you who hold with both hands the great sweetwort, brewing it with honey and wine.

37-40 1 line damaged You …… the sweetwort to the vessel. Ninkasi, ……. You …… the sweetwort to the vessel.

41-44 You place the fermenting vat, which makes a pleasant sound, appropriately on top of a large collector vat. Ninkasi, you place the fermenting vat, which makes a pleasant sound, appropriately on top of a large collector vat.

45-48 It is you who pour out the filtered beer of the collector vat; it is like the onrush of the Tigris and the Euphrates. Ninkasi, it is you who pour out the filtered beer of the collector vat; it is like the onrush of the Tigris and the Euphrates.