The Image of Mesopotamian Divine Healers Healing Goddesses and the Legitimization of Professional asûs in the Mesopotamian Medical Marketplace (Cuneiform Monographs, 53) 2021062613, 2021062614, 9789004512405, 9789004512412, 9004512403
This book presents the first in-depth analysis of Mesopotamian healing goddesses and their relationship to asûs, “healer
157 82 3MB
English Pages 428 [427] Year 2022
Polecaj historie
Table of contents :
Contents
Acknowledgements
Abbreviations
Chapter 1. Newly Understanding Healing Goddesses and asûs: Theory and Methods
1.1. Introduction
1.2. Rethinking Healing Goddesses
1.2.1. Healing Goddesses as a Category
1.2.2. A Brief History of Scholarship on Healing Goddesses
1.3. Rethinking Mesopotamian Healers
1.3.1. Health Care Systems and the Medical Marketplace
1.3.2. The Development of the “Medical Profession” in Ancient Mesopotamia
1.3.3. Indigenous vs. Scholarly Medicine and Hegemonic/Theistic vs. Domestic/Holistic Domain
Part 1. The Various Healing Goddesses and Their Relationship to asûs
Chapter 2. The Origins of the Healing Goddess Gula
2.1. Gu₂-la₂ and Gula in the 3rd millennium B.C.E.
2.2. Disentangling Gula, Gu₂-la₂ and (U)kulla(b)
2.2.1. Trans-Tigridian Snake and Healing Deities
2.2.2. Ab-u₂ as Spouse of Gu₂-la₂, Gula and/or (U)kulla(b)?
2.2.3. (U)kulla(b), Gu₂-la₂, and Gula
2.2.4. Conclusion: Who Is Who?
2.3. Gula’s Involvement in Healing and Midwifery in the Ur III Period
2.3.1. Association with asûs through Cult
2.3.2. Association with Other Healing Goddesses
2.3.3. Gula and Childbirth
Chapter 3. Gula in the 2nd and 1st Millennia B.C.E.
3.1. Gula in the Old Babylonian Period
3.1.1. Gula’s Cult Centers in the Old Babylonian Period
3.1.1.1. Nippur
3.1.1.2. Larsa and Isin
3.1.1.3. Sippar
3.1.2. Gula as asû and Different Healing Domains in the Old Babylonian Period
3.1.3. Other Healing Settings
3.2. Gula in the 2nd Half of the 2nd Millennium B.C.E.
3.2.1. Gula’s Increased Significance in Babylonia
3.2.1.1. Nippur
3.2.1.2. Dūr-Kurigalzu
3.2.1.3. Isin
3.2.1.4. Sippar and Ḫilpu
3.2.2. Gula in Image in Babylonia
3.2.3. Gula in Assyria and the Periphery
3.2.3.1. The Temple of Gula at Aššur
3.2.3.2. Gula and asûs at Mardaman
3.2.3.3. (Scholarly) Sources from the Western Periphery
3.2.4. Gula and Her Connection to Healing
3.2.4.1. The Title asû/azugallatu and Healing Qualities
3.2.4.2. Requests for Healing: Figurines and Votive Inscriptions
3.3. Gula in the 1st Millennium B.C.E.
3.3.1. Gula’s Cult in Babylonia and Assyria
3.3.1.1. Temples, Their Names, and Related Divine Epithets
3.3.1.2. Gula and/as Bēlet-balāṭi, the “Mistress Who Provides Life”
3.3.1.3. Gula as asû/azugallatu, and Her Power over Life
3.3.1.4. Gula as Other Healers: The Domestic, Motherly Healer and Midwife
3.4. Conclusion
Chapter 4. Gula Compared to Other Healing Goddesses
4.1. Ninkarrak
4.1.1. Ninkarrak: The Name
4.1.2. The Origins of Ninkarrak: A Liminal Curse and Oath Deity
4.1.3. Ninkarrak in the Mesopotamian Heartland: Becoming a Healing Deity
4.1.4. Ninkarrak after the Old Babylonian Period
4.2. Ninisina
4.2.1. Ninisina in the 3rd and Early 2nd Millennia B.C.E.
4.2.1.1. Cult and Divine Relationships of Ninisina
4.2.1.2. Ninisina as the Epitomy of Healing
4.2.2. Ninisina after the Old Babylonian Period
4.3. Bau
4.3.1. Bau in the 3rd and Early 2nd Millennia B.C.E: Mother and Healer
4.3.2. Bau after the Old Babylonian Period
4.4. Nintinuga
4.4.1. The Name and Origins of Nintinuga
4.4.2. Nintinuga in the 2nd and 1st Millennia B.C.E.
4.5. Meme
4.6. Comparative Analysis of the Healing Goddesses
Part 2. Asûs in the Mesopotamian Medical Marketplace
Chapter 5. An Overview of the Mesopotamian Medical Marketplace
5.1. Lay and Domestic Healing
5.2. Folk Healing
5.2.1. Specialists in Plants, Food and Healing
5.2.2. Clothes Menders or Stitchers: the lu₂tug₂-kal-kal-la/mukabbû
5.2.3. Snake Handlers: the mušlaḫḫu
5.2.4. Barbers and Hairdressers: The šu-i/gallābu
5.2.5. Female Healers
5.2.6. The munaʾʾišu and mušallim(ān)u
5.3. Professional Healers: The Scholars
5.3.1. A New Development of Scholarly Identity in the Late 2nd Millennium B.C.E.
5.3.2. (Professional) Healers among the Scholars: bārû, āšipu, and asû
Chapter 6. Rethinking the Term “asû”
6.1. Asû as a General Term: “Healer”
6.2. Different Types of asûs and Intersections with other Healers
6.2.1. Asûs as Healers of Humans and Animals
6.2.2. Specializations of asûs
6.2.3. Female asûs
6.3. The Functions and Work Environments of asûs
6.3.1. Public Duties and Private Practice of asûs
6.3.2. Asûs of the City/State Administration and the asûs from the Periphery
6.3.3. Royal Recognition: asûs Working Directly for Palace and King
6.3.4. Asûs as Scholars
6.3.5. The Organization of asûs: Overseers, Apprentices, and Guilds
6.3.6. Asûs and the Temple
6.3.7. Asû as an Occupation in the Late 1st Millennium B.C.E.
6.4. Conclusion
Part 3. Legitimacy in the Medical Marketplace: Divine and Human Professional asûs
Chapter 7. Legitimization as a Response to Competition and the Demands of Clientele
7.1. Medical Competition and the Need for Legitimization
7.2. Promoting Erudition as a Scholarly Response to Medical Competition
7.2.1. Antagonism between the Educated/Competent and the Uneducated/Incompetent
7.2.2. “The Incompetent Other” in Medical Satire
7.2.3. Exclusive Knowledge of Exotic and Rare Healing Products
7.3. The Professional asûs’ Solution to Competition: A Divine Image
Chapter 8. The Process of Gula becoming the Divine Legitimization of Professional asûs
8.1. Healing Goddesses and Legitimization before the Middle Babylonian Period
8.2. Gula Legitimizing Professional asûs from the Middle Babylonian Period
8.3. Gula Representing Competition between Professional asûs and Other Healers
8.3.1. Competition among Scholars: Gula Increasing Power of Professional asûs
8.3.2. Gula Incorporating (Female) Lay and Folk Healers and Their Healing Practices
8.3.3. Gula and the Knife: Gula Incorporating the Art of the gallābus
Chapter 9. Conclusion and Suggestions for Future Research
Bibliography
Temple Names
Selected Akkadian Terms
Selected Sumerian Terms
Geographical Names
Names of Deities, Demons, Spirits and Monsters
Seals and Seal Impressions
Text References
Citation preview
The Image of Mesopotamian Divine Healers
Cuneiform Monographs Editors t. abusch – m.j. geller j.c. johnson – s.m. maul – f.a.m. wiggermann
volume 53
The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/cumo
The Image of Mesopotamian Divine Healers Healing Goddesses and the Legitimization of Professional asûs in the Mesopotamian Medical Marketplace
By
Irene Sibbing-Plantholt
leiden | boston
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Sibbing-Plantholt, Irene, author. Title: The image of Mesopotamian divine healers : healing goddesses and the legitimization of professional asûs in the Mesopotamian medical marketplace / by Irene Sibbing-Plantholt. Description: Leiden ; Boston : Brill, [2022] | Series: Cuneiform monographs, 09290052 ; volume 53 | Based on author's doctoral dissertation at Unviersity of Pennsylvania in 2017. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: lccn 2021062613 (print) | lccn 2021062614 (ebook) | isbn 9789004512405 (hardback) | isbn 9789004512412 (ebook) Subjects: lcsh: Gula (Assyro-Babylonian deity)–Cult. | Medicine, AssyroBabylonian. | Healing–Iraq–History. | Healers–Iraq–History. | Healing gods. | Goddesses, Assyro-Babylonian. | Goddesses in literature. | Assyro-Babylonian cults. | Healers in literature. | Healing in literature. Classification: lcc r135.3 .s53 2022 (print) | lcc r135.3 (ebook) | ddc 610.9567–dc23/eng/20220121 lc record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021062613 lc ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021062614
Typeface for the Latin, Greek, and Cyrillic scripts: “Brill”. See and download: brill.com/brill‑typeface. issn 0929-0052 isbn 978-90-04-51240-5 (hardback) isbn 978-90-04-51241-2 (e-book) Copyright 2022 by Irene Sibbing-Plantholt. Published by Koninklijke Brill nv, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill nv incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Hotei, Brill Schöningh, Brill Fink, Brill mentis, Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, Böhlau and V&R unipress. Koninklijke Brill nv reserves the right to protect this publication against unauthorized use. Requests for re-use and/or translations must be addressed to Koninklijke Brill nv via brill.com or copyright.com. This book is printed on acid-free paper and produced in a sustainable manner.
Contents Acknowledgements xi Abbreviations xiv 1 Newly Understanding Healing Goddesses and asûs: Theory and Methods 1 1.1 Introduction 1 1.2 Rethinking Healing Goddesses 8 1.2.1 Healing Goddesses as a Category 8 1.2.2 A Brief History of Scholarship on Healing Goddesses 9 1.3 Rethinking Mesopotamian Healers 14 1.3.1 Health Care Systems and the Medical Marketplace 14 1.3.2 The Development of the “Medical Profession” in Ancient Mesopotamia 18 1.3.3 Indigenous vs. Scholarly Medicine and Hegemonic/Theistic vs. Domestic/Holistic Domain 21
part 1 The Various Healing Goddesses and Their Relationship to asûs 2 The Origins of the Healing Goddess Gula 27 2.1 Gu₂-la₂ and Gula in the 3rd Millennium b.c.e. 28 2.2 Disentangling Gula, Gu₂-la₂ and (U)kulla(b) 33 2.2.1 Trans-Tigridian Snake and Healing Deities 33 2.2.2 Ab-u₂ as Spouse of Gu₂-la₂, Gula and/or (U)kulla(b)? 35 2.2.3 (U)kulla(b), Gu₂-la₂, and Gula 39 2.2.4 Conclusion: Who Is Who? 43 2.3 Gula’s Involvement in Healing and Midwifery in the Ur iii Period 44 2.3.1 Association with asûs through Cult 45 2.3.2 Association with Other Healing Goddesses 46 2.3.3 Gula and Childbirth 48 3 Gula in the 2nd and 1st Millennia b.c.e. 51 3.1 Gula in the Old Babylonian Period 51 3.1.1 Gula’s Cult Centers in the Old Babylonian Period 51 3.1.1.1 Nippur 51
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3.1.1.2 Larsa and Isin 53 3.1.1.3 Sippar 56 3.1.2 Gula as asû and Different Healing Domains in the Old Babylonian Period 58 3.1.3 Other Healing Settings 62 3.2 Gula in the 2nd Half of the 2nd Millennium b.c.e. 63 3.2.1 Gula’s Increased Significance in Babylonia 63 3.2.1.1 Nippur 64 3.2.1.2 Dūr-Kurigalzu 67 3.2.1.3 Isin 68 3.2.1.4 Sippar and Ḫilpu 71 3.2.2 Gula in Image in Babylonia 72 3.2.3 Gula in Assyria and the Periphery 73 3.2.3.1 The Temple of Gula at Aššur 73 3.2.3.2 Gula and asûs at Mardaman 75 3.2.3.3 (Scholarly) Sources from the Western Periphery 76 3.2.4 Gula and Her Connection to Healing 77 3.2.4.1 The Title asû/azugallatu and Healing Qualities 77 3.2.4.2 Requests for Healing: Figurines and Votive Inscriptions 81 3.3 Gula in the 1st Millennium b.c.e. 83 3.3.1 Gula’s Cult in Babylonia and Assyria 83 3.3.1.1 Temples, Their Names, and Related Divine Epithets 89 3.3.1.2 Gula and/as Bēlet-balāṭi, the “Mistress Who Provides Life” 91 3.3.1.3 Gula as asû/azugallatu, and Her Power over Life 92 3.3.1.4 Gula as Other Healers: The Domestic, Motherly Healer and Midwife 103 3.4 Conclusion 104 4 Gula Compared to Other Healing Goddesses 106 4.1 Ninkarrak 106 4.1.1 Ninkarrak: The Name 106 4.1.2 The Origins of Ninkarrak: A Liminal Curse and Oath Deity 110 4.1.3 Ninkarrak in the Mesopotamian Heartland: Becoming a Healing Deity 115 4.1.4 Ninkarrak after the Old Babylonian Period 119 4.2 Ninisina 123 4.2.1 Ninisina in the 3rd and Early 2nd Millennia b.c.e. 123
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4.3
4.4
4.5 4.6
4.2.1.1 Cult and Divine Relationships of Ninisina 123 4.2.1.2 Ninisina as the Epitomy of Healing 127 4.2.2 Ninisina after the Old Babylonian Period 136 Bau 139 4.3.1 Bau in the 3rd and Early 2nd Millennia b.c.e: Mother and Healer 139 4.3.2 Bau after the Old Babylonian Period 143 Nintinuga 146 4.4.1 The Name and Origins of Nintinuga 146 4.4.2 Nintinuga in the 2nd and 1st Millennia b.c.e. 148 Meme 153 Comparative Analysis of the Healing Goddesses 156
part 2 Asûs in the Mesopotamian Medical Marketplace 5 An Overview of the Mesopotamian Medical Marketplace 165 5.1 Lay and Domestic Healing 166 5.2 Folk Healing 172 5.2.1 Specialists in Plants, Food and Healing 173 5.2.2 Clothes Menders or Stitchers: The lu₂tug₂-kal-kal-la/mukabbû 176 5.2.3 Snake Handlers: The mušlaḫḫu 177 5.2.4 Barbers and Hairdressers: The šu-i/gallābu 184 5.2.5 Female Healers 188 5.2.6 The munaʾʾišu and mušallim(ān)u 192 5.3 Professional Healers: The Scholars 194 5.3.1 A New Development of Scholarly Identity in the Late 2nd Millennium b.c.e. 194 5.3.2 (Professional) Healers among the Scholars: bārû, āšipu, and asû 202 6 Rethinking the Term “asû” 208 6.1 Asû as a General Term: “Healer” 208 6.2 Different Types of asûs and Intersections with Other Healers 6.2.1 Asûs as Healers of Humans and Animals 212 6.2.2 Specializations of asûs 215 6.2.3 Female asûs 217 6.3 The Functions and Work Environments of asûs 219
212
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6.3.1 Public Duties and Private Practice of asûs 219 6.3.2 Asûs of the City/State Administration and the asûs from the Periphery 227 6.3.3 Royal Recognition: asûs Working Directly for Palace and King 229 6.3.4 Asûs as Scholars 231 6.3.5 The Organization of asûs: Overseers, Apprentices, and Guilds 234 6.3.6 Asûs and the Temple 239 6.3.7 Asû as an Occupation in the Late 1st Millennium b.c.e. 241 6.4 Conclusion 243
part 3 Legitimacy in the Medical Marketplace: Divine and Human Professional asûs 7 Legitimization as a Response to Competition and the Demands of Clientele 249 7.1 Medical Competition and the Need for Legitimization 249 7.2 Promoting Erudition as a Scholarly Response to Medical Competition 252 7.2.1 Antagonism between the Educated/Competent and the Uneducated/Incompetent 252 7.2.2 “The Incompetent Other” in Medical Satire 255 7.2.3 Exclusive Knowledge of Exotic and Rare Healing Products 261 7.3 The Professional asûs’ Solution to Competition: A Divine Image 263 8 The Process of Gula Becoming the Divine Legitimization of Professional asûs 267 8.1 Healing Goddesses and Legitimization before the Middle Babylonian Period 267 8.2 Gula Legitimizing Professional asûs from the Middle Babylonian Period 273 8.3 Gula Representing Competition between Professional asûs and Other Healers 283 8.3.1 Competition among Scholars: Gula Increasing Power of Professional asûs 284 8.3.2 Gula Incorporating (Female) Lay and Folk Healers and Their Healing Practices 291
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8.3.3 Gula and the Knife: Gula Incorporating the Art of the gallābus 302 9 Conclusion and Suggestions for Future Research Bibliography 317 Temple Names 386 Selected Akkadian Terms 387 Selected Sumerian Terms 389 Geographical Names 390 Names of Deities, Demons, Spirits and Monsters Seals and Seal Impressions 395 Text References 397
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Acknowledgements This book is based on my doctoral dissertation accepted at the University of Pennsylvania in 2017. I gratefully recognize that this work owes its existence to the many individuals and institutions who believed in me and supported me. I would like to express my gratitude to my dissertation committee, Grant Frame, Steve Tinney and Richard Zettler, for their support as well as useful criticisms and comments; above all, I thank Grant Frame for his patience, guidance, feedback, and support. A very special thanks goes out to my mentor Frans Wiggermann, to whom I am greatly indebted. He kindled my passion for Assyriology and taught me as a first-year student how to copy my first clay tablet at Tell Sabi Abyad in Syria. He encouraged me to take on the task of conducting an indepth, diachronic study of Gula, and this work would not have been possible without the many visits I paid him in Amsterdam and the fruitful conversations and heated yet constructive debates we had over coffee and beer. I am extremely grateful for his uncommon generosity and his intellectual guidance during this entire process of researching and writing. Much gratitude is owed to the many other teachers that I had over the past few years, in Leiden, Amsterdam, Berlin, Philadelphia, and beyond. I owe a notable debt of gratitude to Marten Stol and Wilfred van Soldt, who fired me with enthusiasm for Mesopotamian medicine and the Middle Babylonian period respectively and always so generously shared their thoughts, materials, and endless references with me. I presented large parts of Chapter 6 in honor of Wilfred van Soldt during the workshop Society and Administration in Mesopotamia during the Kassite Period, a symposium held by colleagues, students and friends to celebrate Wilfred van Soldt’s retirement in Leiden on 10 March 2017 – this chapter is therefore dedicated to him. I also would like to thank Holly Pittman for her encouragement and valuable feedback that opened new avenues for thought and led to some important conclusions and Manfred Krebernik for his many helpful suggestions. My horizons have been broadened by many scholars outside of the field of Assyriology who guided and taught me. David Barnes of the Department of History and Sociology of Science at the University of Pennsylvania has been particularly infuential to me, as he has helped me to find ways to relate Mesopotamian medicine to other disciplines and cultures. I have been lucky enough to spend time with the BabMed team at the fu Berlin to take part in a lively exchange about Mesopotamian medicine, from which my work has greatly benefited. Especially Mark Geller, Ulrike Steinert, Cale Johnson, and Strahil Panayotov have very kindly provided useful sugges-
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tions and given me access to their work. I thank Mark Geller and Ulrike Steinert for inviting me to Berlin in 2017 and the daad and the Louis J. Kolb society for providing funding for this trip. I also am indebted to Mark Geller for introducing me to Gene Trabich, who has been so kind to proofread the manuscript in its final stages. I am beholden to the keepers of the collections in the British Museum and the Vorderasiatisches museum in Berlin for giving me permission to work on several tablets, and Grant Frame and Steve Tinney for allowing me to include unpublished tablets from the University Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology Babylonian Collection in this work. Thanks are further due to my colleagues and friends at the Babylonian Collection. Especially the insights of Phil Jones were absolutely invaluable, and our Sumerian reading group or “SumClub” led to a deeper understanding of some of the texts I used for this work. I am also grateful to all the visiting researchers that I met during their stay at the Babylonian Section with whom I had enlightening conversations. I am grateful for the generous financial support I received to write this work. I would like to thank the department of Near Eastern Languages and Civilizations for supporting me in the form of a University of Pennsylvania Benjamin Franklin Fellowship, and the Louis J. Kolb Foundation for awarding me a Louis J. Kolb junior fellowship, which allowed me to write my dissertation and and undertake many valuable and necessary research trips. The final stages of converting my dissertation into a book took place during my time as a research associate at the Einstein Center Chronoi, funded by the Einstein Stiftung Berlin. I would like to express my thanks to the directors of the Einstein Center Chronoi, Eva Cancik-Kirschbaum, Christoph Markschies, and Hermann Parzinger, as well as my colleagues Eva Rosenstock and Stefanie Rabe, for their generous support, and our student assistant Joseph Elharar for his tireless assistance. Moreover, many of the Einstein Center Chronoi fellows, in particular Anke Walter and Menahem Ben-Sasson, have encouraged me and provided valuable comments that enabled me to improve this manuscript. Various colleagues, fellow students, and friends have assisted me in numerous ways, for which I am endlessly grateful. I want to especially thank David Kertai for his friendship, encouragement, and time. He sat up long nights with me helping me to find the right nuances in my statements and conclusions. Without Julia Levenson’s support over the past three years I would not have been able to complete this task. And I also want to thank Steve Renette, Darren Ashby, Elizabeth Knott, Monica Philips, Brahim el-Guabli, Shana Zaia, Gina Konstantopoulos, and Mary Frazer for their encouragement, support, and friendship, especially when I was writing the dissertation that is the foundation of this book.
acknowledgements
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I offer my heartfelt thanks to my family, who faithfully stood beside me through this project. My gratitude must go to all the people, above all my mother Thea Willemse, who looked after my son while I traveled to conduct my research. A special thanks goes out to my father Sjaak Sibbing, whom I hold responsible for igniting my love for antiquity. And last but not least, I want to deeply thank my husband Steve Plantholt and my son Bear, for their tireless patience, encouragement, and loving support, for graciously putting up with me, and for forcing me to keep things in perspective. Finally, I would like to emphasize that this book appeared during the SARSCov2-pandemic, a time marked by a rise of anti-scientific discourses and a challenge of scientific authority. Although this study sheds light on (the potential benefits of) medical diversity, none of the arguments in this work should be taken as an attempt to undermine the importance of modern biomedicine or the legitimacy of medical professionals, nor as a support of anti-scientific practices and views — especially not in the context of a raging pandemic.
Abbreviations The Assyriological abbreviations used in the body of this work and the bibliography can be found in the following sources: Cuneiform Digital Library Initiative,1 Reallexikon der Assyriologie und Vorderasiatischen Archäologie, and the Archiv für Orientforschung. Selected and additional abbreviations include: abrt J.A. Craig. 1896. Assyrian and Babylonian Religious Texts. Volumes 1–2. Assyriologische Bibliothek. Leipzig: J.C. Hinrichs. arn M. Çig, M., H. Kizilyay, and F.R. Kraus. 1952. Altbabylonische Rechtsurkunden aus Nippur. Istanbul: Milli Eǧitim Basimevi. BBSt L.W. King. 1912. Babylonian Boundary Stones and Memorial Tablets in the British Museum. London: British Museum. ber 4 W.J. Hinke. 1907. A New Boundary Stone of Nebuchadrezzar i from Nippur. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania. bht S. Smith. 1924. Babylonian Historical Texts relating to the Capture and Downfall of Babylon. London: Methuen. bi The Banca d’Italia Collection in Rome. Brett H.H. von der Osten. 1936. Ancient Oriental Seals in the Collection of Mrs. Agnes Baldwin Brett. oip 37. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. canes E. Porada. (ed.) 1948. Corpus of Ancient Near Eastern Seals in North American Collections, i: The Collection of the Pierpont Morgan Library. Washington: Pantheon Books. cco L. Delaporte. 1920–1923. Musée du Louvre, Catalogue des cylindres orientaux, cachets et pierres gravées de style oriental. 2 Volumes. Paris: E. Leroux. CMAwR Tz. Abusch and D. Schwemer. 2011–2020. Corpus of Mesopotamian Antiwitchcraft Rituals. 4 Volumes. amd 8/1–4. Leiden; Boston: Brill. Deimel šl A.S.J. Deimel, 1928–. Šumerisches Lexikon. Roma: Pontificio Istituto Biblico. Delaporte bn L. Delaporte. 1910. Catalogue des cylindres orientaux et des cachets assyro-babyloniens, perses et syro-cappadociens de la Bibliothèque Nationale. Paris: E. Leroux. etcsl J.A. Black, G. Cunningham, J. Ebeling, E. Flückiger-Hawker, E. Robson, J. Taylor, and G. Zólyomi. 1998–2006. The Electronic Text Corpus of Sumerian Literature, Oxford. Accessible at http://etcsl.orinst.ox.ac.uk/. Genève M.-L. Vollenweider, 1996. Catalogue raisonné des sceaux-cylindres et intailles du Musée d’Art et d’Histoire de Genève. Genève: Musée d’ Art et d’Histoire de Genève. 1 Accessible at http://cdli.ox.ac.uk/wiki/abbreviations_for_assyriology.
abbreviations Horniman Jones
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Cylinder Seals from the Horniman Museum, London. W.H.S. Jones. 1923–1931. Hippocrates. 4 Volumes. Loeb Classical Library nos. 147–150: Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Kist J. Kist. 2003. Ancient Near Eastern Seals from the Kist Collection: Three Millennia of Miniature Reliefs. chane 18. Leiden: Brill. pkg 14 W. Orthmann. 1975. Der Alte Orient. Propyläen Kunstgeschichte 14. Berlin: Propyläen Verlag. Ojeil C. Saporetti, G. Matini, P. Negri Scafa, S. Ticca and S. Viaggio. 2014. Contratti della Collezione Ojeil, Testi della Collezione Ojeil. Roma: Informic@pplicata. saa 10 S. Parpola. 1993. Letters from Assyrian and Babylonian Scholars. saa 10. Helsinki: The Neo Assyrian Text Corpus Project. saas 1 S. Herbordt. 1992. Neuassyrische Glyptik des 8.–7. Jh. v. Chr. Unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der Siegelungen auf Tafeln und Tonverschlüsse. saas 1. Helsinki: The Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project. Sotheby’s Monaco Sotheby’s Sales Catalogue Antiquités et Objets d’ Art. Collection Martine, Comtesse de Béhague, provenant de la succession du Marquis de Ganay, Sotheby’s, Monaco, 5 December 1987. Sotheby’s 1988 Sotheby’s (firm). 1988. Ancient glass, ancient jewellery, middle eastern, Egyptian, south Italian, Greek, Etruscan and Roman. tcbi 1 F. Pomponio, G. Visicato, and Å. Westenholz. 2006. Le Tavolette cuneiformi di Adab delle collezioni della Banca d’Italia. Volume 1. Roma: Banca d’Italia. tcbi 2 F. Pomponio, M. Stol, and Å. Westenholz. 2006. Tavolette cuneiformi di varia provenienza delle collezioni della Banca d’Italia Volume 2. Roma: Banca d’Italia. tcti 2 B. Lafont and F. Yildiz. 1996. Tablettes cunéiformes de Tello au Musée d’Istanbul datant de l’époque de la iiie dynastie d’Ur. Publications de l’Institut historique-archéologique néerlandais de Stamboul 77. Leiden: Nederlands Historisch-Archaeologisch Instituut te Istanbul. var A. Moortgat. 1940. Vorderasiatische Rollsiegel. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Steinschneidekunst. Berlin: Gebr. Mann Verlag. was 2 D. Collon. 1982. Catalogue of the Western Asiatic Seals in the British Museum 2: Akkadian, Post Akkadian and UrIII Periods. London: British Museum Press. was 3 D. Collon. 1986. Catalogue of the Western Asiatic Seals in the British Museum: Cylinder Seals 3: Isin-Larsa and Old Babylonian Periods. London: British Museum Press. was 5 D. Collon. 2001. Catalogue of West Asian Cylinder Seals in the British Museum 5: Neo Assyrian and Neo-Babylonian Periods. London: British Museum Press.
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Newly Understanding Healing Goddesses and asûs: Theory and Methods 1.1
Introduction
In almost every society there are patients and healers who interact with and amongst each other. Generally, patients can consult a variety of healers, and these healers compete with each other in what can be called the medical marketplace. This work aims to draw attention to the fact that this competition between healers and the consequent necessity for legitimization strategies already existed in Ancient Mesopotamia, and that the healing goddesses played an important role in this. This book is the first systematic analysis of both the development of the nature of the Mesopotamian healing goddesses Gula, Ninkarrak, Ninisina, Bau and Nintinuga on the one hand and on the other hand the human healers who bore the title “asû”, often translated as “physician” but in this book translated as “healer”. It defines the exact relationship between these two groups, how this relationship emerged and developed over time, and how it reveals the way experts perceived their role and function in Mesopotamian society and the Mesopotamian worldview. It concludes that in the Middle Babylonian period, Gula became a legitimizing divine patroness for a special subgroup of asûs, the professional asûs, who through her could draw exceptional healing qualities and authority to themselves, which was necessary to be able to achieve stature among the large variety of healers who operated in the Mesopotamian medical marketplace. This term “medical marketplace” has been adopted in the last few decades by historians of medicine to describe the wide range of healers who offer their services in a society, and their clients who summon different medical skills.1 Anthropological research has shown that in many historical and contemporary societies a select group of professional healers—i.e. a bureaucratic, learned and secretive elite—operates alongside and in direct competition with a large number of lay and local non-bureaucratic folk healers, who offer a wide variety of accessible and complex services.2 Through studying the med-
1 See paragraph 1.3.1. 2 Kleinman 1980; for an explanation of these terms, see paragraph 1.3.1.
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ical marketplaces of historical societies, historians have come to realize that the most sought-after providers of health care are oftentimes not the professional, learned healers, but rather the less visible lay and folk healers. Inspired by these findings, this research began as an attempt to shed light on the full extent of the Mesopotamian marketplace. Generally, the healing options of the Mesopotamian patient are perceived as limited to the services of the asûs and āšipus, often translated as “incantation priests”; these are sometimes called “professional healers” by modern scholars.3 They were responsible for the production of medical literature and diagnostic handbooks. To get a grasp on other potential healers, this work considers the texts they produced alongside a wide range of textual, but also archaeological and iconographical sources that reveal what healing in every day life looked like, what various types of healing the average person had access to, and how healers related to each other and their patients in ancient Mesopotamia. What becomes clear from the survey of this material is that the asûs and āšipus by no means had a monopoly on healing in Mesopotamia and that there indeed must have been a wide range of healers available, as various occupations that are normally not considered as healers in modern scholarship were brought to the surface. Moreover, the term asû itself was versatile in nature and was a generic term that could indicate a variety of healers in the lay, folk, and professional sectors. Consequently, not only the āšipu–asû monopoly, but also the traditional āšipu–asû dichotomy needs to be reconsidered. It raised questions how the asûs known from the medical literature and hegemonic and scholarly environment, whom are called “professional asûs” in this book, set themselves apart from not only their competing colleagues the āšipus, but also healers with the same title who operated in non-scholarly, non-professional, non-hegemonic contexts. The strategy chosen to obtain insight into these processes in the medical marketplace, in particular from the perspective of the professional asûs, is to analyze the representations of healing in the symbolic system, namely the divine asûs. These were the healing goddesses who carried the title asû, i.e. Gula, Ninkarrak, Ninisina, Bau and Nintinuga. Mesopotamian anthropomorphic deities can be perceived as larger-than-life, idealized, and stereotyped models that gave meaning to actions, phenomena, and particular elements of society.4 In the case of healing goddesses, they represent notions of healing 3 E.g. Lambert 1987: 127; Biggs 1995; Scurlock 1999; Steinert 2018a. 4 Selz 2012. Humans have the universal tendency to recognize human characteristics and intentional actions in their surroundings, and imagine or understand the complex and organized world around them through recognizing an anthropomorphous driving force that exhibits
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as well as healers and their ideas and practices. Even though this relationship between healing goddesses and asûs has generally been assumed because they shared the title asû, the underlying motivation for or process behind this association has not been thoroughly considered, nor has it been outlined which of the healing goddesses bore this title in which time periods and contexts. Therefore an in-depth, diachronic and synchronic study of these individual healing goddesses and their relationship with asûs, in particular if certain healing goddesses had a distinct connection to asûs and why, is necessary. Some attempts have been made to look at this, for instance, in his very brief article on Ninisina A (2003), Abrahami touches on the correlation between the practices and knowledge of the āšipu and asû and the deities Ninisina and Damu,5 and Böck (2014) seeks an analogy between Gula and practice described in medical texts. She expresses interest in Gula as the representation of medical experts, but she restricts her book to medical texts and incantations and treats “Gula” as a Sammelname:6 she does not systematically differentiate between the different healing goddesses and their connection to medical occupations over time. The general assumption that all healing deities can be considered as one entity under the name Gula as patroness of medical experts does not do justice to the idiosyncratic, diverse characters of these individual goddesses nor to their complex relationships to human healers. The goddesses indeed shared some characteristics, but also had distinct traits that set them apart from each other. Therefore, in order to properly reconstruct the way in which healing goddesses were materialized in text and image, and how this materialization represents the practice and worldview of Mesopotamian healers, Part 1 of this book, “The Various Healing Goddesses and Their Relationship to asûs”, thoroughly analyzes the development of the cult, character and idiosyncrasies of each goddess by examining a wide range of textual, iconographic and archaeological sources from three millennia of Mesopotamian history. It discusses where and how these female divine representations of healing appeared in the human behavior (Guthrie 1993; Shtulman 2008; Pongratz-Leisten 2011; Pongratz-Leisten and Sonik 2015). For anthropomorphism in Mesopotamia, see for instance Machinist 2014. For religion and anthropomorphism in general, see Guthrie 1993; Shtulman 2008; Epley, Waytz and Cacioppo 2007; Waytz, Epley and Cacioppo 2010. 5 Robson (2008) is concerned with tracing the Sumerian titles of Ninisina, Nintinuga and Bau and whether these titles were used by humans in a healing context. She does however not stress the interrelation between healing experts and their divine patroness; in fact, she says that literary works are not reliable sources for everyday medicine because they are idealistic representations of the divine realm (Robson 2008: 467–470). 6 Böck 2014: 8.
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Mesopotamian symbolic system, how they developed, and when and how they first were clearly associated with healing. Chapter 2, “The Origins of the Healing Goddess Gula”, discusses the evidence for Gula’s persona and cult in the 3rd and early 2nd millennia b.c.e. and her relationship to the homonymous goddesses Gu₂-la₂ and (U)kulla(b), in order to establish the origins of Gula and how she became associated with healing. It concludes that Gula’s importance did not stem from a role as city goddess, but from her intrinsic role as a healing goddess. Her name, meaning “old, great one”, hints at her having been the great healing goddess of old, who from the beginning of time was the deity who represented healing to the general population. She may thus have embodied healers and healing forms in the traditional, domestic domain, or lay and folk sectors, including midwives and female asûs. Chapter 3, “Gula in the 2nd and 1st millennia b.c.e.” discusses the development of her character in the later periods of Mesopotamian history. It concludes that her cult spread significantly throughout the 2nd millennium b.c.e. and that by the late 2nd millennium b.c.e. her healing character and role as asû rose to great heights. By the 1st millennium b.c.e., her position as divine asû was eminent and overt. Chapter 4, “Gula Compared to Other Healing Goddesses”, compares this portrait of Gula and her development as healing goddess to those of the other healing goddesses Ninkarrak, Ninisina, Bau, Nintinuga, and Meme. For each goddess, a diachronic analysis is given of her changing character and relationship to healing and asûs over the course of three millennia. What consequently becomes apparent is that although all these goddesses had some connection to asûs, the intensity of and underlying reasons for these connections vary, and these develop over time, which also reflects on the different meanings of asû and asûtu through time. For instance, Ninkarrak originally was not a healing goddess and became associated with healing in the 2nd millennium b.c.e. because of her liminal role as a curse deity, while Bau and Ninisina were called asûs most often in the Ur iii and Old Babylonian period for the reason that they were the epitomy of divine healing and encompassed (near to) all forms of healing. Part 1 concludes that, although asûs may have posed as healers who could channel the divine powers of these healing goddesses, it is not until the Middle Babylonian period that one healing goddess was systematically portrayed as the representation of the office of asû. Gula, who bore the title asû most often from the Middle Babylonian period on, became the great divine asû and had a special connection to a specific group of asûs, the professional asûs, who emerged at the same time. In order to fully understand this relationship between Gula and professional asûs it is essential to clarify what should be understood under asû, and how this occupation developed into a profession over time, especially in
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relationship to other healers. This will be done in Part 2 of this book entitled “Asûs in the Mesopotamian Medical Marketplace”, which analyzes a vast amount of sources predominantly outside the medical scholarly literature, such as letters and administrative and legal documents, in order to get a grip on the day-to-day procedures and interactions between healers and patients in the Mesopotamian medical marketplace and health care system throughout Mesopotamian history. Chapter 5, “An Overview of the Mesopotamian Medical Marketplace”, demonstrates the plurality of the Mesopotamian medical marketplace by bringing to light the wide range of healers that operated within it, some of which have never before been considered by modern scholars. This sheds new light on the role of asûs, as it shows the many healers with whom they both worked and competed. In Chapter 6, “Rethinking the Term ‘asû’ ”, the occupation asû will be analyzed, detailing its different facets and meanings and how they developed over time. The common understanding of asûs has been heavily influenced by modern perspectives on medicine, including the idea that there was one true form of medicine that could only be performed by one type of professional specialist. It is often assumed that “the asû” and “the āšipu” were healers with uniform and well-defined professions who had a monopoly on healing, much like modern physicians trained in contemporary biomedicine are governed and regulated by larger institutions. They are thought of as healers who stood in direct opposition to each other, and to get a grasp on this juxtaposition, modern dichotomies are applied to them. For instance, the common translations “physician” for asû and “exorcist, incantation priest” for āšipu allude to a supposed difference in the practice of healing with natural, empirical medicine versus religious or magical techniques; other proposed dualities are that they were layman versus priest, and pharmacist versus physician.7 Thinking in such categories and binaries prevents the modern scholar from seeing the multifaceted elements of these healers and the Mesopotamian marketplace at large. Even just the labelling of asû and āšipu as “professions” is problematic without a thorough discussion of whether one can speak of a medical profession in ancient Mesopotamia (see paragraph 1.3), and the same can be said for the common English translation “physician” for asû. Although “physician”, like “healer”, is a term for one who is skilled in the art of healing and one who cures and cares,8 it has attracted strong connotations of a healer engaged in general medical practice in opposition to the surgeon, and being legally qualified to practice medicine.9 These qualifications cannot 7 For an overview, see paragraph 5.3.2. 8 Louis and Agich 1979: 2580–2581. 9 Louis and Agich 1979: 2580–2581; see also Salazar 2000: 85.
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be established in the Mesopotamian sources for asûs, and therefore this book uses the translation “healer” instead.10 That this translation does the occupation more justice is demonstrated in Chapter 6, which shows that asû does not refer to a homogeneous group of highly educated healers who stand in juxtaposition to āšipus. Rather, asû was a collective term referring to restorers of life and health of humans and animals that was applied to healers operating in different segments of society and different sectors of the health care system. They collaborated and competed not just with one other, but in accordance with the findings of Chapter 5, with many other healers. In the Middle Babylonian period, scholarly asûs developed an identity as professional healers, and these worked closely with other professional healers. This new identity thus was analogous to that of Gula becoming the divine asû par excellence. In fact, the picture emerges that Gula became an extension of the professional asûs, a divine counterpart who reflected their qualities—similar to the āšipus, who were associated with other patron deities and who employed other strategies of authorization and legitimization due to the different nature of their offices. The reason behind the parallel development of human and divine professional asû is discussed in Part 3, “Legitimacy in the Medical Marketplace: Divine and Human Professional asûs”. In light of the diversity of healers present in the medical marketplace, one can assume that there was rivalry between groups of healers and that each tried to ensure their authority and legitimacy. Chapter 7, “Legitimization as a Response to Competition and the Demands of Clientele”, demonstrates that cross-cultural and anthropological research supports this presupposition, and that also in Mesopotamian sources one can recognize attempts by healers to employ processes of legitimization in response to their competition and the demands of their clients. It is clear that healers in all segments of society attempted to establish and maintain their authority by creating legitimizing narratives. For instance, domestic healers like mothers can develop the message that illness comes from the outside world and that their houses are places of safety of healing. Mesopotamian scholarly healers used lofty erudition to discredit their rivals as stupid ignoramuses while claiming access and knowledge of exclusive and exotic medical substances with which they impressed their clients. However, their most important strategy was the ability to employ deities as their divine counterparts and symbolic representations
10
The practice of asûs is mentioned in laws, but not the misuse of the term by those who do not have right to use it; for the discussion of which healers were and could be called asû, see Part 2.
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of their knowledge and power. Letting supernatural models serve as a legitimizing framework for healers can be recognized in various historical societies, and also in Mesopotamia, it was a fruitful solution for professional healers to establish and maintain their authority in the medical marketplace. This was important especially for the professional asûs, who in the Middle Babylonian period became part of a hegemonic context but were rooted in a domestic environment, and therefore had a complex relationship with both other professional healers and non-professional healers. They were less authoritative in this new scholarly, professional role than āšipus, and at the same time stood too close to folk healers, some of them carrying the same title, to easily distinguish themselves from them. In Chapter 8, “The Process of Gula becoming the Divine Legitimization of Professional asûs”, it is explained how Gula allowed professional asûs to become more competitive in the Mesopotamian medical marketplace. It discusses the early onsets of divine legitimization of asûs by several healing goddesses who could represent any asû and who did not yet represent one specific, definable group of healers. It then continues on to explain how the Middle Babylonian period created the ideal environment for Gula to be systematically characterized as a divine asû and patroness of specifically professional asûs. It furthermore shows how the competition between professional asûs with other healers were reflected in the textual and iconographical portrayal of Gula. The latter provided the professional asûs with a divine framework among their scholarly colleagues, in particular the āšipus, who were the human representatives of Enki/Ea and Marduk/Asalluḫi. Moreover, professional asûs asserted their superiority over lay and folk healers such as gallābus, “barbers, hairdressers”, and women healers by absorbing their techniques and qualities in the image of their divine counterpart Gula. Chapter 9, “Conclusion and Suggestions for Future Research”, elaborates on how this insight in the process of legitimization of professional healers in the medical marketplace, one of the oldest medical marketplaces that is preserved in written sources, reveals the value and relevance of ancient Mesopotamian medicine to the general history and the modern day. In (nearly) every society, stuggles for legitimacy by healers and tension caused by medical plurality can be detected. The focus on these common or even universal denominators allows one to compare Mesopotamian medicine with medicine in societies that otherwise seem incomparable, as they fundamentally differ in medical technology and theory. This book applies several terms that require some explanation and a proper introduction. The following paragraphs will clarify what is meant with the terms “healing goddess”, “medical marketplace”, “health care system”, and “pro-
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fessionalization”, and the distinction between “hegemonic” and “domestic” domains, as well as “indigenous” and “professional/scholarly” medicine.
1.2
Rethinking Healing Goddesses
1.2.1 Healing Goddesses as a Category The use of the term “healing deity” implies that there was a concept in Mesopotamia of categorizing deities according to specific roles and types, including healing. The idea of categorizing divine beings according to certain types or function arose within the field of comparative religion in the late 19th and early 20th centuries c.e. The classical philologist Hermann Usener (1896) introduced the term Sondergötter, “functional deities”, which defines divine beings according to a human activity (e.g. warfare or healing) or phenomena (e.g. weather). One of those functional deities is the mother goddess, a category that refers to a female partner of a masculine creator deity who is connected to birth, nature and plants, animals, life and death and whose character is both benevolent and maleficent.11 Usener’s emphasis on function has had a strong influence on studies of the ancient Near East, as the categorization of gods based on these types has been adopted by many scholars in this field.12 However, this perspective can be problematic, since it implies that deities have one single function. As Smith (2008: 47 n. 50) states, the categorization of deities according to functional types can be a useful means for instance when comparing gods cross-culturally, but should be applied with care and its shortcomings should be acknowledged. In ancient societies, a plurality of healing deities was common. The Greeks, for instance, could invoke various manifestations of Asclepius,13 his snake-like daughter Hygieia,14 and Apollo as divine healers.15 The effects of epidemics could cause people to seek out other local and foreign gods in addition to the normal healing deities to counteract epidemics, and they were all perceived as superhuman agents with knowledge of healing. Ambasciano (2016) speaks of a “historical merry-go-round” in the Greco-Roman period, since in the context of illness (and epidemics in particular), different deities were invoked whose
11 12 13 14 15
De Vries 1967: 121–128. See also Smith 2008: 47 n. 50. See for instance Edelstein and Edelstein 1998 [1945]; Horstmanshoff 2004; Ogden 2013: 310–316; Panagiotidou 2016. Ogden 2013: 310–346. Nilsson 1941: 507 (see below); Nutton 2013: 107–112.
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healing powers were made prominent and then faded. This is probably caused by an intuitive response to link an uncontrollable natural situation that lies beyond the human power to a conscious, superhuman agent, which reduces the situation to a more manageable agentive causality.16 There are various Mesopotamian deities who had healing properties or who carried healing titles, and in essence each Mesopotamian deity could have healing properties because of the personalistic disease etiology and a belief that a restoration of cosmic equilibrium was an intrinsic part of theistic healing, which will be explained in the paragraphs below. Sometimes these healing titles were situational, i.e. they were only used for a specific deity in a particular (usually ritual) context;17 and sometimes they were personal, i.e. those that were unique (and often of ancient origin) to certain deities, regardless of context or medium.18 This book focuses on a group of goddesses who were systematically characterized as women that performed healing roles and carried the title asû, and who were closely associated with each other throughout the Mesopotamian textual database. These deities were Gula/Meme, Ninkarrak, Ninisina, Bau and Nintinuga. Other associated deities with healing properties, such as Gunura, and Damu, who also carries the title asû, will be discussed as the entourage of or in conjunction with these healing goddesses. 1.2.2 A Brief History of Scholarship on Healing Goddesses The healing goddesses have attracted plenty of attention in modern scholarship. Deimel in his 1914 Pantheon babylonicum, written in Latin, presented Ninkarrak, the medica magna, as the Mesopotamian healing goddess per se. He stated that Gula was associated with ars medendi, but was mainly recognized as a dea partus, a birth goddess, as was Nintinuga (who is only briefly discussed), and Bau, who is explicitly called a fertility goddess (dea fertilitatis agrorum animalium et hominum). Ninisina did not receive her own entry in Deimel’s pantheon, but was considered an epithet of Ninkarrak. Nikel (1918) was the first to publish a study specific of healing deities in Mesopotamia in the late 2nd and 1st millennia bce. He also perceived Ninkarrak to be the main healing goddess, who was also known as Ninisina and Gula, and Ninsianna in Sumerian, based on a mistaken reading of the name Nin-
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Martin 2013; Nieuwboer, van Schie, and Wigboldus 2014; Ambasciano 2016; for this function of anthropomorphization, see also the previous paragraph. For instance, Utu as a-zu-gal in Utu B; see paragraph 3.1.2. For this distinction between situational and personal epithets, see Kurth 1983.
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isina in Ninisina’s Journey to Nippur.19 In his review of Nikel, Landsberger (1923) criticized Nikel’s methodology. He was convinced that the goddesses were only merged on a theological level, and he took Ninsianna out of the equation, stating that this deity had nothing to do with any of the healing goddesses. Mullo-Weir (1929) was the first scholar to bring together four (already published) hymns to “Gula”. Because two of the four texts do not mention the name Gula but only the name of the other deities, it apparently was assumed by Mullo-Weir that these healing goddesses could be summarized as Gula.20 He further stated that Ninkarrak is a translation of Ninisina (whom he perceived as an equivalent of Ninsianna) and a famous epithet for Gula and Bau.21 Studies like this, treating texts dedicated to healing deities together, are rare; the latter are normally found scattered throughout the scholarly literature.22 The most recent monographic work on healing deities specifically is Böck (2014), who has collected a select group of 1st millennium b.c.e. medical texts and incantations involving Gula, a name she uses to indiscriminately refer to the different manifestions of Mesopotamian healing goddesses. The most influential study on healing goddesses and their equation to this day is Kraus’s elaborate work in Journal of Cuneiform Studies 3 (1951) on the Old Babylonian deities of Isin. Kraus (1951: 63) stated that he did not follow Nikel’s work, and but let Landsberger’s review serve as a guideline for him in his collec-
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The name [dnin]-in-si-an-na in line 3 (kar 15 and 16) should be read [dnin]-isin₂-si-an-na, an error for Nin-isin₂-si-na, as written in the colophon (line 27′); see also Wagensonner 2008: 286. He provided an edition for bms 6: 71–95 with variant kar 341 and bms 4: 24–49; the two texts he provides an edition for that do not contain the name Gula are abrt 2 16–18 (K 232+) and abrt 1 18 with variant kar 41 (exemplar of Muššuʾu incantation 5/a, Böck 2007: 184–189, 208; note that variant bm 46276+ [Böck var. A], has Gula in the first Akkadian line instead of Ninkarrak). Mullo-Weir 1929: 8. For instance, Van Dijk 1953; 1975; Römer 1965; 1969; 2003; Ali 1966; Hallo 1959; 1976; Gurney and Kramer 1976; Mayer 1976; Böck 1996 have all edited various hymns, royal inscriptions and prayer letters dedicated to Gula, Nintinuga and Ninisina. Wagensonner (2008) reedited kar 15/16 and published a new fragment of Ninisina C/Ninisina’s Journey to Nippur. Zólyomi (2010) re-edited two fragments containing similar compositions, of which one is a hymn to Ninisina. Cohen (1981) and Gabbay (2014; 2015) edited several Eršemas dedicated to Gula, Ninisina and/or Nintinuga; and Finkel (1999) published four dog incantations dating to the Old Babylonian and Late Babylonian periods, all invoking Gula and/or Damu. Falkenstein and von Soden (1953), Seux (1976) and Foster (2005) have published translations of hymns, incantations and prayers to the healing goddesses, but have not organized or analyzed them as a group.
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tion of material as well as his methodology. Kraus (1951: 62–86) studied god lists from the Old Babylonian and Neo-Assyrian periods as well as (mostly Old Babylonian Sumerian) literary texts, Ur iii and Old Babylonian administrative texts, and legal documents. He concluded that in Old Babylonian Isin, the names Ninisina, Ninkarrak, and Gula were used side by side and as synonyms for the goddess at this site. He was interested in the individual characters behind these three names and who the original goddess of Isin was, but remained largely unconclusive: he found that both Ninisina and Ninkarrak could be nomina or “real names” or cognomina of deities who later merged together, and that there was not enough evidence to reconstruct a clear scenario of the historical development of the Isin goddess. Some general conclusions of Kraus were that Gula was a younger form of the goddess Gu₂-la₂, whose incomprehensible name became understood as Gula “the Great” through Volksetymologie. This Gu₂-la₂ merged with a goddess who then took on the cognomen Gula; this goddess was either Bau or Nintinuga, or Ninisina. He assumed that in later periods, the name Gula was applied to different goddesses, who nevertheless continued to exist separately from each other and never fully melted into one Gestalt.23 He further deemed it clear that Nintinuga, goddess from Nippur, may have been partly merged with Gula and Ninisina but nevertheless remained a separate deity.24 He also stated that Gula/Ninisina and Bau were equated with major and minor goddesses and compared this process to the competition between the healing deity Apollo and the local healing gods in ancient Greece. Kraus (1951: 75) quoted Nilsson (1941: 507) who, in line with the above-mentioned “merry-goround” of healing deities, stated that there would always be sick people, and that they would turn to whichever healing deity is present in the area. Based on this, Kraus attributed the equation of healing goddesses not to scholarly exegesis but to an almost natural human process, assuming that all goddesses identified with the well-known healing goddesses must have been perceived as healing goddesses.25 The efforts of Kraus to shed light on the complex origins and (by-)names of these goddesses at Isin, and relationship between them, led to a more unnuanced general assumption that Gula was the great healing goddess all throughout Mesopotamia with whom the other healing goddesses were identified, and that all of these merged together in the late 3rd or early 2nd millennium b.c.e., to the point where they could barely be differentiated. This, for instance, is
23 24 25
Kraus 1951: 74. Kraus 1951: 72–73. Kraus 1951: 74–75.
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alluded to in Frankena’s overview of Gula in the textual record in the third volume of the Reallexikon der Assyriologie (1971), and the publication of the Gula Hymn of Bulluṭsa-rabi by Lambert (1967b), who states that Gula “the great physician” was from the beginning home at Isin, and that Ninisina, Ninkarrak and Gula were taken as one goddess.26 The Bulluṭsa-rabi hymn is a syncretistic hymn27 spoken by Gula in the first person, in which she and her spouse were equated with nine pairs of gods and goddesses. Nintinuga, Ninkarrak and Bau were among the names equated with Gula, but Ninisina is missing.28 Lambert dates the origins of this hymn to some time between 1400 and 700b.c.e., and it has therefore been assumed that from the 2nd millennium b.c.e. on, the main healing deity was called Gula, not Ninkarrak. Ninkarrak’s demotion to being merely a manifestation of Gula prevented her from getting her own entry in the RlA: under “Ninkarrak” the reader is referred to the article on Ninisina by Edzard in RlA 9 (2000). Recently, Ninkarrak has begun to gain attention again. Robson (2008) labels her as the (Sumerian) goddess of sickness and healing who also went by the names Nintinuga, Ninisina and Gula. Westenholz (2010) published a diachronic study of Ninkarrak with an extensive analysis of sources in which she investigated when and where the goddess Ninkarrak made her entry in Mesopotamian sources. Also many important works on the cults of the other goddesses have come out since Kraus’s article. The cults of Ninisina, Gula, Nintinuga and Bau in Isin, Larsa, Nippur, Girsu/Lagaš and various other centers in the 3rd and 2nd millennia b.c.e. are further discussed by Sallaberger (1993), SuchGutiérrez (2003) and Richter (2004), and in the excavation reports of the sites (see Part 1). Richter presents a thorough evaluation of multiple healing deities, but restricts his research to healing deities of the Old Babylonian period at Nippur, Isin, Larsa and Ur.29 There are different opinions about the origin and
26 27
28 29
Lambert 1967b: 110. The use of the term “syncretism” for a Mesopotamian phenomenon is problematic, as it as it has a strong Christian connotation (Graf 2004: 10) and implies that beliefs from one world or religion are adopted and assimilated by certain people in another, incompatible, religious movement (Vroom 2004: 104, 111). This work mostly uses “to associate” and “to connect” to describe that there were similarities or ties between deities, and general terms like “to equate”, “to merge”, or “to translate” when different names were used for the same divine being or when two deities seem have to been unified into one entity (see Pálsson 1993; Assmann 1996; Smith 2008). An exception is made for the term “syncretistic hymn”, which is commonly used in Assyriological studies to indicate a certain type of hymn in which multiple divine names are assigned to one deity. See paragraph 3.3.1.3 Richter 2004: 108–122 (Nippur), 173–225 (Isin), 359–362 (Larsa), 465–467 (Ur).
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names of the different deities,30 but it is generally assumed that the goddesses (especially Ninisina, Ninkarrak, and Gula) merged into one healing deity in the early 3rd millennium or late 2nd millennium b.c.e. Oftentimes, there is no attention for their individual traits and characteristics at all, and all goddesses are treated as one entity. Bau and Nintinuga sometimes get treated in their own right. Bau’s role as goddess of Lagaš/Girsu and birth, fertility or mother goddess is usually emphasized as her main trait,31 and her involvement with healing is mostly considered based on shared epithets related to healing.32 Sometimes she is thought of as an alter-ego of the other healing goddesses, and sometimes as her own entity.33 Nintinuga is sometimes interpreted as the same deity as Gula, Ninkarrak and Ninisina,34 while others see her as her own entity because she was listed separately from these goddesses in the god lists.35 Although there is no doubt that Gula, Ninkarrak, Ninisina, Bau, and Nintinuga were related and interchangeable on many occasions, one of the aims of this work is to untangle the strands of their different characters in order to fully understand how these goddesses reflect Mesopotamian healers and healing practice. Each goddess should be considered as starting off in her own right, and the individual reasons behind her association with healing should be analyzed. Since Kraus’s attempt at understanding these separate goddesses, a wealth of information has become available; moreover, the healing goddesses were far from limited to Isin, so their cult in the entire Mesopotamian heartland, including Assyria, as well as the periphery, should be considered. Part 1 of this book provides an up-to-date and in-depth analysis of the diachronic and synchronic development of these individual divine entities and their role in healing over the course of three millennia, based on textual and iconographical
30
31
32
33 34 35
For instance, Groneberg (2007a: 95 n. 22), following Kraus (1951: 64), refutes Such-Gutiérrez’s idea (2003: 1 246) that Gu₂-la₂ should be differentiated from Gula. Other scholars who have addressed the equation of the healing goddesses are for instance Edzard (1965), Avalos (1995: 101–106); Tinney (1996: 173), Heeßel (1998), Myers (2002), Groneberg (2007b), Asher-Greve and Westenholz (2013) and Böck (2007; 2014; 2015a). E.g. Ebeling 1932 (who based on a variety of syncretistic hymns, concluded that Bau was equated with Ninisina, Gula, and Nintinuga, but does not mention their healing character); Robson 2008: 467. Römer 1965: 244–245; Ceccarelli 2009; Böck 2015a. See also Robson (2008), who discusses the different Sumerian titles related to healing applied to Bau (as well as Ninisina and Nintinuga) in Old Babylonian compositions; note that she treats Bau as a separate entity from Ninkarrak/Nintinuga/Ninisina/Gula, whom she considers to be the main goddess of sickness and healing. E.g. Robson 2008. E.g. Edzard 2001; Robson 2008. Kraus 1951: 70–73; Litke 1998: 178–179; Westenholz 2010: 382.
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sources. It will give an overview of their respective origins and how and when they came to be associated with healing through the study of their epithets and the contexts in which they were mentioned and invoked. A survey of their attainment or loss of different healing qualities over time and how they related to mundane healing occupations, asû in particular, will consequently make us better understand concepts of healing and the actions of healers in the earthly realm. The origin and early history of the goddess Gula and her relationship to the goddesses Gu₂-la₂ and (U)kulla(b) is discussed first (Chapter 1), and then Gula’s development as a healing goddess in the 2nd and 1st millennia b.c.e. (Chapters 2 and 3). This is followed by a study of the development and character of those healing goddesses who were also called asû and were associated with each other through shared features and/or households: Ninkarrak, Ninisina, Bau, Nintinuga, and Meme (Chapter 4). Part 1 concludes with a synthesis of the findings on these different healing goddesses and their relationship to asûs.
1.3
Rethinking Mesopotamian Healers
1.3.1 Health Care Systems and the Medical Marketplace This book discusses various healers and forms of healing in ancient Mesopotamia. “Healing” is defined as the holistic notion of being restored to the normally functioning and healthy self, and thus being both cured of any disease and finding relief from the psychological and social implications of disease (for instance, social alienation) to the extent that patients are able to re-enter society and return to normal everyday life. In congruence with this, “illness” will be used to describe both the disease of patients, which is a biomedical condition, as well as their entire experience of being ill.36 Consequently, the term “healer” in this work refers to individuals who have the capacity or capability to provide healing, or in other words, a relief from illness. Illness and healing are socio-cultural constructs and are determined by a particular health care system. For instance, in some health care systems the notion of being healed does not depend on full symptom remission: a physical sign that the healing process will soon begin is enough.37 Arthur Kleinman (1980: 24) described the importance of socio-cultural context of healing and illness in the following way:
36 37
Fabrega 1974: 45; Kleinman 1978: 88. Etkin 1988: 302. With regard to efficacy in ancient healing practices, see Demand 1999; Totelin 2011. For healing as a social construct, see Pelling 1998: 5; Sumich 2013: 5.
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In every culture, illness, the responses to it, individuals experiencing it and treating it, and the social institutions relating to it are all systematically interconnected. The totality of these interrelationships is the health care system. Put somewhat differently, the health care system, like other cultural systems, integrates the health-related components of society. These include patterns of belief about the causes of illness, norms governing choice and evaluation of treatment; socially legitimated statuses, roles, power relationships, interaction settings, and institutions. Foster and Anderson (1978: 36–38) see a health care system as a component of a society’s medical system, which, according to them, “embraces all of the health-promoting beliefs and actions and scientific knowledge and skills of the members of the group that subscribe to the system”. They suggest that every medical system consists of three components: belief and behaviors, a disease theory system, and a health care system. The belief and behaviors of a society reflect cultural ideologies and the worldview of a particular society, and its disease theory system consists of the ideas of disease etiology and the nature of health. Foster and Anderson (1978: 153) identify two disease theory systems, namely personalistic, meaning that disease is brought about by the action of a supernatural being, or naturalistic, meaning that disease is caused by natural forces or conditions.38 The health care system concerns the social relations involved in healing, namely the relationships between healer, patient, and any other parties involved, and the technological aspect of healing, which ranges from concepts of healing and health to actual curing techniques and the rationale behind them. Kleinman (1980) has shown that there are similarities, perhaps even universals, in the health care systems and perceptions of health and disease across different cultures, for instance that every society has patients and healers. He assumed that the inner or personal structures within a health care system are roughly similar, though the outer or social structures can vary. He presented a universal health care model composed of three overlapping parts—the lay or popular sector, the folk sector, and the professional sector—in which healers operate, with a certain degree of fluidity between sectors.39 The lay or popular sector is a multifaceted, non-institutionalized sector consisting of a network around a patient in which the illness is first defined and 38 39
See also Foster 1976. Note that Draycott (2016: 433) argues that such sharp divisions cannot be made for ancient cultures, although Kleinman (1980) clearly states that the borders between these sectors are blurry and that many healers operate in more than one sector.
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treated, and from where, depending on the (healing) knowledge, values and resources of this network, it will be decided if specialized help needs to be sought out. The heterogeneous folk sector consists of a multitude of specialized healers that are only partially visible in the state administration. It overlaps with both the lay and professional sector; the main difference with the professional sector is that the healers operating within the professional sector form a closed group with access to exclusive resources (including knowledge through highly specialized training) and are nurtured by a sponsoring elite. According to Kleinman’s model, the largest part of health care systems is made up of the popular and folk sectors. However, the message of professional healers, especially in modern Western biomedical medicine, can be that they (should) have a monopoly over formal and informal healing services, although no group of professional healers at any time in history has been able to accomplish this.40 As will be discussed below, the professional sector is not limited to modern Western health care systems and can also be recognized in ancient, non-western societies. The different healers operating in these health care sectors offer their services in what Roy Porter labeled “the medical marketplace”. He painted a picture of the latter in pre-modern Europe that brings to the fore many more healers than we generally think of today: (…) there were more medical practitioners than has generally been suspected, indeed, far more, if we include, as we surely should, all those who appeared to sufferers as medically skilled, experienced, or gifted: the gaggle of herbalists, nurses, wisewomen, bonesetters, ladies of the house, horse-doctors, empirics, itinerant tooth-drawers, peddlers, showmen, witches, clergymen, barbers, charlatans, and so forth, many of whom were not particularly expensive at all. (…) physicians, surgeons, and apothecaries in fact melted into each other along a spectrum that also included thousands who dispensed medicine full- or part-time, for reward or for love, publicly or to friends.41 In the last few decades, historians of medicine have adopted this term to describe the wide range of healers who offered their services in a society, and their clients who demand different medical skills.42 It could for instance be
40 41 42
Freidson 1970: 17. Porter 1985: 188. For the earliest uses of this term, see Beier 1984; Porter 1985.
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applied to the Greco-Roman world, where, as Nutton (2013: 66, 258) summarizes it, professional healers faced competition from indigenous and foreign snake charmers, masseurs, traveling healers with a limited range of drugs, and based on the names and occupations of the people that Galen credits in his drug books with certain recipes, potentially also rootcutters, eye-couchers, grooms, boxers, and school teachers. Although the use of the term “medical marketplace” has received some criticism over the last years because of its wide application and capitalistic connotation,43 the image of an (abstract) medical marketplace where a wide range of healers made themselves available to patients is a helpful framework to understand the full extent of Mesopotamian medicine. It provides a unique insight in the social history of Mesopotamian medicine as it takes the focus away from asûs and āšipus, who are often perceived as the only healing options the Mesopotamian patient had.44 Types of healers who are not mentioned in the Mesopotamian medical texts, the ones to which Kleinman and Porter drew attention, are normally hardly considered. Some of them have been recognized in modern scholarship, such as gallābus, “barbers, hairdressers”, who have been dubbed “quacksalvers”,45 midwives, wise women, and ordinary women who assisted in birth,46 or lay people providing care,47 but in general the conversation about medical treatment and the range of healers is concentrated on asûs and āšipus and the duality between them.48 This work looks beyond terms that occur in the scholarly literature and approaches the Mesopotamian healing options with a broader, anthropological perspective. If one considers the key role of (in the terms of Kleinman) lay healing as well as folk healing in many past and contemporary societies, it is worth considering that the Mesopotamian medical marketplace would have looked similar to the one described by Porter and Nutton. And indeed, non-professional or popular and lay healers such as wisewomen, perfume-makers, bonesetters, cooks, barbers/hairdressers, prostitutes, and snake handlers seem to have operated as healers and thus found themselves in competition with asûs and āšipus. This 43 44
45 46 47 48
See for instance Pelling 2003: 343; Jenner and Wallis 2007. See for instance Villard 2006: 139: “le choix du traitement était probablement très limité, dépendant en grande partie des moyens financiers du patients ou des guérriseurs disponibles localement”. Geller 2010a: 5–55. Stol 2000, especially pages 171–176. Worthington 2009: 62. For this discussion, see below. Avalos (1995) applied the term “health care system” to Mesopotamia (for a hypothetical model, see Avalos 1995: 231), but considered the āšipu and asû as the primary or even only healing actors within it.
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allows for a more nuanced view of the variety of healing options that must have been available to Mesopotamian patients. Also Kleinman’s healing sectors are insightful in the context of ancient Mesopotamia. Although a professional sector category seems not directly applicable to ancient Mesopotamian society, anthropological research has shown that in many historical and contemporary societies, a select group of professional healers—i.e. a bureaucratic, learned, and secretive occupational elite— operates alongside and in direct competition with a large number of lay and local non-bureaucratic folk healers. When one takes a closer look at what encompasses a “profession”, it becomes clear that this terminology can indeed be helpful to better understand ancient Mesopotamian medicine and the dynamics in the Mesopotamian marketplace. 1.3.2
The Development of the “Medical Profession” in Ancient Mesopotamia According to Freidson (1970: xv), the term “profession” refers to an occupation which has assumed a dominant position in a division of labor, so that it gains control over the determination of the substance of its own work. (…) The occupation sustains this special status by its persuasive profession of the extraordinary trustworthiness of its members. The trustworthiness it professes naturally includes (…) knowledgeable skill. In fact, the profession claims to be the most reliable authority on the nature of the reality it deals with. Freidson (1970: 3) further elaborates that all healers are not called doctors and physicians, nor they are usually considered to be professionals in any other sense than that of making a living from their work (the opposite of amateurs). Those occupations which are distinguished from others by being called professions are considerably more special. This thus means that for a healing occupation to be considered special enough to be a profession, it simply requires it to be defined as such: principally by the occupational groups themselves who persuade others of their importance, and if they are successful, also their clientele. How is this established? In his analysis of how knowledge-based occupations, in particular in medicine, achieve their goal to become respected professions, MacDonald (1995: 34–35) has identified several criteria. Firstly, a coherent, definable occupation
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group needs to have a special relation to the state or the ruling elite, which provides an acknowledgement, for instance in the form of licenses and titles, that grants the profession privilege, status and power, and a superiority over other healing occupations.49 MacDonald (1995: 34) points out that, even when having obtained this support, the profession “still must strive in the arena or compete in the marketplace against others who can provide similar or substitute or complementary services”. Professional healers thus have to convince their clients that (only) they provide particularly effective and exclusive services for their clients. Max Weber’s concept of “social closure” has been utilized by multiple studies of professions in order to indicate how professional groups act in order to maximize rewards by restricting access to resources and opportunities.50 Social closure is the process of restricting the access to an occupation only to a select circle of eligibles, who in this can claim certain knowledge, technologies and skills, and can place themselves in opposition to socially defined inferiors who are excluded from this group and what they control. It is a strategy used by professional groups in face of competition to ensure economic and social awards, a high social status, social recognition, and respectability.51 The success of this process depends on the response of the state or the healer’s sponsors, other healing occupations, and the public or clientele. Professional healers have to draw in “followers” who accept them and believe in them, and therewith lend prestige to them. One of the forces behind this acceptance and belief can be charismatic legitimacy, i.e. legitimacy based on the endowment with exceptional and often supernatural powers or qualities.52 Michalowski (1987) analyzed the charismatic aspects of kingship in the Ur iii period and concluded that the focus of the organization of charisma was the deification of the king, which legitimized the new centralized power and control of the Ur iii dynasty. Not only rulers are endowed with charismatic authority, but also groups of professions, who establish charisma or exceptional qualities through, for instance, a high education, and therewith enforce social acceptance.53 In this case the authority lies not with one leader of a movement, but with the entire group.54 49
50 51 52 53 54
See also Last 1996: 375, who refers to medical professions as “an extended self-conscious grouping of healers with defined criteria for membership (whether through licensing, certification, or registration) and an expertise over which it seeks primary control; it is also an expertise that claims to be more than a craft and has in addition an esoteric, theoretical basis”; see also Saks 2010: 887–888. Parkin 1979: 44. See also Bacon and Borthwick 2013: 1082–1083. E.g. Parkin 1979; Saks 1983; 2010; Murphy 1988; MacDonald 1995; Bacon and Borthwick 2013. Weber 1968: 253–293; Burke 2005: 93. Giddens 1971; Turner 1995: 133; Bacon and Borthwick: 2013. See for instance Bacon and Borthwick 2013.
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This neo-Weberian approach that assumes that group interests are driving forces in a market-based environment that encompasses state, professions and other occupations,55 fits with the notion of the “medical marketplace”. Like “medical marketplace”, the term “profession” could be criticized for its capitalistic connotations. Freidson (1970: 6) states that medicine did not become a profession until the rise of universities in Europe, and others even say that the medical profession cannot be traced back earlier than the 19th century c.e.56 However, even when one cannot recognize a stable occupation with the prerequisites to be called “a profession”, the analysis of processes of professionalization including social closure and legitimization driven by competition can be helpful in understanding the medical marketplace and the social role of healing occupations in societies like ancient Mesopotamia.57 One can certainly speak of Mesopotamian healers who maintained that the efficacy of their work was the result of a trait exclusive to their group and aimed to obtain exclusive control by laying claim on the technologies and methods of healing to mark themselves off from the uninitiated. Their goal was to establish a general public belief in their competence and skill and consequently ensure their authority. Although various groups of Mesopotamian healers were undoubtedly able to establish a belief in their abilities in their clients, there was only one group to whom the above-mentioned processes of professionalization can be applied: namely the Mesopotamian scholars, to whom from the Middle Babylonian period on, a clearly identifiable group of scholarly asûs belonged. These scholars claimed patronage by the state and king, could execute charismatic authority through their education and a special relationship with the divine, and could enforce social closure through making their knowledge inaccessible to others in written sources.58 They aimed to dominate the medical marketplace, and in order to do so, they needed strategies to communicate their legitimacy. The role that the divine played therein depended per sub-group of the scholarly, professional healers.59 This variation can be explained through the understanding of different domains of control, in particular the hegemonic and domestic domain.
55 56
57 58 59
See Kuhlmann and Saks 2008; Saks 2010: 894–895. E.g. Parkin 1979; Saks 2010: 893. Leslie (2010 [1976]: 56–57) states that the professional branches of scientific learning first occur between 500 b.c.e. and 500 c.e. in the three great medical traditions, i.e. those of the Chinese, South Asian, and Mediterranean civilizations—the latter being the Greco-Roman tradition with a focus on Galen. See also Freidson 1970: 9–11. For elite groups in ancient (Syro-)Mesopotamia, see also Sallaberger 2019. For the different sub-groups of scholarly, professional healers, see paragraph 5.3 and Part 3.
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1.3.3
Indigenous vs. Scholarly Medicine and Hegemonic/Theistic vs. Domestic/Holistic Domain Until the emergence of centralized control and administration in ancient Mesopotamia and until resources and knowledge fell into the hands of an elite, medical knowledge must have been in the hands of the general population, of traditional lay and folk healers.60 This original, traditional knowledge and practice of healing performed and handed down since time immemorial by healers according to domestic tradition can be labeled as “indigenous” medical knowledge.61 In this book, a distinction is made between the domestic domain, which is marked by indigenous knowledge and traditions and the values and beliefs of society, and the hegemonic domain, namely that where formal institutions like the palace and the temple exhibit their power, the ideology of which is strongly connected to the scholarly world. The use of these terms is inspired by van Binsbergen and Wiggermann’s article “Magic in History. A Theoretical Perspective and Its Application to Ancient Mesopotamia” (1999). In this enlightening work, the authors assert that Assyriology would benefit from more theoretical approaches and they propose a potent theoretical model with regard to Mesopotamian magic and religion. Inspired by the work of anthropologist J.G. Frazer, they distinguish four contexts in which the Mesopotamian could have experienced control that are intimately linked: (1) instrumental control— man’s control over nature through technology; (2) volitional body control—the effect on one’s own body; (3) interactive control—control over, and being controlled by, other people through human interaction in the context of kin groups and local communities, or the “domestic domain”, and (4) hegemonic control, an absolute and hierarchical control superimposed on the domestic domain by formal institutions like the palace and the temple. These formal political institutions want to govern the domestic domain, yet is dependent on it for its
60
61
Note Worthington 2003: 10, who states that “medicine (…) seems to have been a conservative pursuit, and it is possible that its pharmacological profile was established early on (perhaps even in pre-historic times), before a tide of institutionalising male chauvinism, which excluded women from medicine.” The term “indigenous knowledge” is often used in the context of (post-)colonialism in contrast to “scientific” knowledge, indicating respectively unique, local, non-Western knowledge and practice, and Euro-Western knowledge, which is more centralized and associated with the machinery of the state (Chambers 1980: 2; Warren 1989: 162). Inspired by Stewart-Harawira (2005), in the context of this book, the term “indigenous” marks the traditional knowledge that always had been accessible to local people even before the emergence of centralized state control and the development of a scholarly identity, while “scholarly medicine” is used to refer to medical practices and knowledge that was controlled and protected by a group of scholarly experts (see Chapter 5).
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man power and production. Moreover, it never has full hegemonic jurisdiction; there are always forces rooted in the other three domains of control that will not be subject to these formal institutions and that express a different imagery and coherence. In ancient Mesopotamia, the hegemonic domain emerged in the late 4th and 3rd millennia b.c.e., when society became more complex and city states emerged, as well as the economic, political, and judiciary structures that controlled the latter.62 A separation between private and state cult occurred, and specialized crafts emerged as a consequence of the process of surplus accumulation and a need for occupations supporting the new socio-political structures. The latter gained legitimacy through ensuring production and security for its subjects. This new order was imposed on, and built from, domestic social structures that previously had served the needs of the community, such as the household. In conjunction with this economic and political centralisation, a new mythological model came into being in the course of the 3rd millennium b.c.e.; a “theistic” model, in which anthropomorphic deities represented and legitimized formal power structures and, like the new forms of leadership, demanded ultimate submission. The power in the divine realm shifted to the god Enlil, who maintained control by making governmental decisions and determining fate and destinies (namtar), or in other words, allocating tasks. Although deities carried familiar domestic elements, such as having family relationships and living in a household,63 the divine became absolute and inescapable, and required complete dependence—just like the individual rulers, who needed to legitimize themselves through this divine parallel as they encroached and reorganized cities and larger geographical areas.64 The purpose of mankind became the labor it provided for the divine, who in turn provided order and structure.65 In this hegemonic and theistic context, a great divide and distance between man and god was created, which forced humans to go through experts, the scholars, to communicate with the divine. The scholarly literature and curriculum reflects the hegemonic domain because it evolved around the king, the center of the political and economic powers, and captured the knowledge of the gods, who justified and legitimized this hegemonic power. According
62 63 64 65
Wiggermann 1992b; van Binsbergen and Wiggermann 1999: 19. Van Binsbergen and Wiggermann 1999: 17. Wiggermann 1992b: 285–289; 2011a; van Binsbergen and Wiggermann 1999: 20–21. Van Binsbergen and Wiggermann 1999: 19–20; Wiggermann 2011a. For the divine representing human society, see also Sallaberger 2004: 299.
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to this ideology, illness could be an indicator of chaos and disruption of the cosmic equilibrium that was established by the gods and the king. Illness was caused by the patient’s (mis)behavior—with or without the patient’s intention or knowledge—and consequent divine wrath, as for instance expressed in the Babylonian Poem of the Righteous Sufferer, Ludlul bēl nēmeqi. To appease the divine and restore the equilibrium it was necessary to clarify the direct nature or cause of the disease, i.e. the deities that inflicted the disease. This was the tasks of the healers who had access to the niṣirti/pirišti ilāni, the divine secret knowledge that had become the privileged property of the scribes and scholars.66 With this knowledge, they also were able to domesticate and control knowledge that could be potentially dangerous to the established order.67 Such a theistic, hierarchic patron-client relationship with the divine stood in contrast to that of the traditional, domestic, pre-hegemonic domain, also called “holistic” domain,68 in which the relationship between man and god was horizontally structured and centered on the complementary and interdependent relationship between mankind and nature. This domestic domain operated beside the hegemonic domain and provided security, stability and identity. It was where life’s transitions, such as birth, illness and death, were experienced, and primary and immediate care was administered. Historically, the domestic domain remains largely autonomous with regards to biological and cultural reproduction and is not easily influenced by larger superstructures. In fact, the human family as a locus of biological reproduction has never effectively and lastingly been replaced by any system, not even slavery or imprisonment.69 Drower (1938: 105) already illustrated this in her article on the reluctant response of local households to an attempt by the state to implement a new hygiene policy in Iraq at the beginning of the 20th century c.e. When the government attempts to influence society concerning physical life and hygiene, people tend to hold on to their traditional customs and taboos. The domestic domain holds and preserves traditional pre- or non-hegemonic worldviews. Its independence of the centralized mode of production challenges the power of the latter and poses a threat to hegemonic control. This distinction between different domains of control and notions and practice of healing being rooted in them is especially enlightening when analyzed in conjunction with Kleinman’s healing sectors. Kleinman’s model allows us to examine the way these healers from different domains offered their services 66 67 68 69
See also Maul 2012: 7. Van Binsbergen and Wiggermann 1999: 28. Van Binsbergen and Wiggermann 1999: 18. Van Binsbergen and Wiggermann 1999: 17.
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and vied with each other in the medical marketplace. Based on the outcomes of Kleinman’s cross-cultural comparisons, there most likely existed a tension between these professional or scholarly healers who offered services that fit within the hegemonic framework of restoring order between mankind and its divine rulers, and the many healers in the domestic or lay and folk sector who were (and remained) anchored in a pre-hegemonic and domestic domain and were respected within their communities. Although there are more sources available for the former, it is likely that the main part of the Mesopotamian population relied on this latter form of medicine (see Chapter 5). The healing practice of asûs in general was in principle pre-hegemonic and domestic and had little ties with the hegemonic structures, as this occupation did not depend on the latter. Although asûs could work for the king and could be scholars, the term asû was heterogeneous and encompassed a vast arrange of healers whose knowledge hinged on long domestic traditions and the relationship between man and his natural environment (see Chapter 6). In the course of the 2nd millennium b.c.e., a group of highly educated, scholarly asûs who worked for the king became more visible and defined. In accordance with the newly developed identity of scholars during this time period, these asûs emphasized their client-patron relationship with the king and the divine, which are clear reflections of the hegemonic enterprise. They were a self-conscious group who aimed to obtain a monopoly in the medical marketplace based on their education, royal and divine patronage, and social closure, and therefore can be called “professional”. They tried to elevate themselves over the asûs who did not belong to their limited circle, and put themselves in the same echelon as other professional healers, in particular the āšipus. The tools and strategies used by them to communicate their professional identity and legitimacy in regard to other healers, and in particular what the role of the divine (i.e. Gula) plays in this, will be discussed in Part 3 (Chapters 7 and 8).
part 1 The Various Healing Goddesses and Their Relationship to asûs
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chapter 2
The Origins of the Healing Goddess Gula The Mesopotamian healing goddess Gula, written dgu-la (from hereon referred to as Gula), is often assumed in modern scholarship to be the younger form of the deity whose name is written dgu₂-la₂ (from hereon referred to as Gu₂la₂).1 This study focuses on the appearances of these names and the characters behind them as evident from sources from the 3rd and early 2nd millennia b.c.e. Kraus (1951: 64–65, 68–69) states that it is likely that Gula was the younger form of the opaque ancient goddess Gu₂-la₂, whose difficult Sumerian or preSumerian name had become incomprehensible over time and through Volksetymologie understood as Gula, “the great one”. As evidence, he put forward only Old Babylonian sources, namely the god lists slt 118+ obv. i 6′–8′, where Gu₂-la₂ is directly followed by Ninisina, and an=Anum forerunner tcl 15 10: 360 (viii 22), where Ninisina follows a few lines later (see below), as well as the interchangeability of gu-la and gu₂-la₂ in gišbanšur-zag-gu₂-la₂ and gišbanšurzag-gu-la in Old Babylonian documents.2 He further assumed that Gula was a cognomen of another goddess, either Ninisina, or Bau or Nintinuga, from whom Ninisina then must have taken over the by-name Gula in the Ur iii period. In short, this would mean Gula was not an individual deity by herself, but a nickname derived from the ancient goddess Gu₂-la₂ that had been used for already existing goddesses. Peterson (2009: 58) also focuses on the Old Babylonian material and maintains that Gu₂-la₂ and Gula were different orthographies of the same divine name. He however suggests that they may have been perceived as separate deities in the Old Babylonian period since they can co-occur in Old Babylonian god lists and curricular personal name lists. Such-Gutiérrez (2003: 1 247–248, 330) rather looks at the 3rd millennium b.c.e. material, and gives four reasons why Gu₂-la₂ and Gula cannot originally have been used to indicate the same deity. Firstly, the writing gu₂-la₂ for gu-la (gal) would be unknown in the 3rd millennium b.c.e. Additionally, during the Ur iii period the cults of the two goddesses were located in different cult centers and they never inter-
1 E.g. Kraus 1951: 68–69; Sauren 1969: 31; Frankena 1971: 695; Conti 1997: 256; Richter 2004: 112 n. 499; Herles 2006: 221; Groneberg 2007a: 95 n. 22; Peterson 2009: 58. The latter maintains that Gu₂-la₂ and Gula were different orthographies of the same divine name but suggests that they may have been perceived as separate deities in the Old Babylonian period, see below. 2 Poebel 1909: 26.
© Irene Sibbing-Plantholt, 2022 | doi:10.1163/9789004512412_003
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sected, with Gu₂-la₂ at Nippur and Gula at Umma, Ur and Uruk.3 Moreover, the divine names were never interchanged, and the Nippur God List places them in separate sections. Evidence from Old Akkadian Adab, where both orthographies can be found, complicates the matter, as does the existence of a third goddess who has to be added to the mix: in Old Babylonian sources, a goddess called (U)kulla(b)4 is also associated with Gu₂-la₂ and Gula. This deity had strong ties to Ešnunna, but there are very few (if any) sources on her before the Old Babylonian period.5 The following section is an attempt to disentangle these three goddesses, in order to better understand their individual characters and which of them can be considered healing deities.
2.1
Gu₂-la₂ and Gula in the 3rd millennium b.c.e.
While the divine name Gula may be first attested during the Old Akkadian period and otherwise can first be found in the Ur iii period, Gu₂-la₂ was already present in the Early Dynastic period. She appears in Fara/Šuruppak and Abu Salabikh god lists,6 and the names Amar-dgu₂-la₂ and Ur-dgu₂-la₂ occur in economic and administrative texts.7 She can further be found in personal names at Nippur from the Old Akkadian period on, as well as in Early Sargonic personal names from Adab.8 In two Old-Akkadian lists from Adab with allocations of heads and hearts of sheep record offerings to Gu₂-la₂, and potentially a šangûpriest of the goddess.9
3 See also Sallaberger 1993: 2 191. 4 Also written Ukulla, Ugulla or Kulla(b) in secondary literature; because of the different orthographies of the name and the unclear origin and meaning of her name (see below), the writing (U)kulla(b) is maintained in this work; compare also Wiggermann 2000a: 331. 5 For brief discussions on (U)kulla(b), see Wiggermann 1989: 120; 2000a: 331; Krebernik 2014; Stol 2014: 66. 6 Fara god lists sf 1 ix 25 and sf 5 obv. ii 5 Krebernik 1986: 177, 189; Mander 1986: 83, 112; Abu Salabikh God list ias 82 obv. vi 11) see Mander 1986: 8. 7 E.g. Pomponio 1987: 31–32; Visicato 1995: 28 [187 rev. 10], 33 [190 obv. ii 5], 41–42 [195 obv. iv 3, 5, vii 9]; tmh 5 159 v 16 (Westenholz 1975: 80 [no. 159]); Richter 2004: 112 n. 499; cusas 35 469 obv. iv 8. 8 Such-Gutiérrez 2003: 1: 247; 2005–2006: 17. 9 1 sa[g-d]u 1 ša₃ udu / s[anga? dg]u₂-la₂, cusas 13 143: 8–9; [1] ⸢sag⸣-du 1 ša₃ udu / [d]gu₂-la₂, cusas 35 354 obv. 9–rev. 1. The other deities in the lists include Dingirmaḫ, Ninšubur, and Adad, deities with whom Gula is associated in some form from the Old Babylonian period on, but not yet in the Ur iii period.
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It is precisely here at Adab that the divine name Gula first appears in the cuneiform record, in the personal name Ur-dgu-la10 and in an Old Akkadian letter order that mentions an agricultural center named aša₅dgu-la-a.11 The writing of the name dgu-la with the additional -a is unusual,12 but if this indeed refers to the deity, then this agricultural center may well belong to a temple of Gula. The fact that there also was a temple of Gu₂-la₂ at this site makes it well possible that Gula and Gu₂-la₂ were two orthographies of the same divine name. However, it cannot be excluded that two deities were worshiped alongside of each other at this site. The unique writing in a personal name from Adab, Ur-dgu₂-la,13 either points to an unusual hybrid of the names or to the fact that Gu₂-la₂ has a flexible orthography, which is reminiscent of (U)kulla(b), the other homogeneous goddess; this will be discussed below. All in all, the evidence from Adab does not allow for clear conclusions, and does not provide insight in the specific cult places or households of Gu₂-la₂ and Gula. What stands out however is that only Gu₂-la₂, not Gula, occurs at Nippur in the 3rd millennium b.c.e.14 There are references from the Ur iii period to personnel of the temple of Gu₂-la₂15 and offering lists, she received offerings as a minor deity.16 One of these mentions her with Ninurta,17 but this does not allow for an identification of the goddess as Gula: the latter is not associated with Ninurta until the Middle Babylonian period.18 The other offering lists place her next to Ḫendursag, the divine night watchman, with whom she also was mentioned in a source from Old Babylonian Nippur.19 Another 10
11 12 13 14
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16 17 18 19
cusas 20 40: 6. Note also the potential attestation in nes 98-10-048 rev. i 5 (pre-Sargonic/ early Old Akkadian), in which the traces of [x]- d[x]-la could be read as Gula, although other divine names like d[kiš]-la cannot be ruled out (Such-Gutiérrez 2005–2006: 17 n. 162). For dkiš-la, see Steinkeller 2004: 176; Such-Gutiérrez 2005–2006: 21. tcbi 1 35 obv. 2; see also Such-Gutiérrez 2005–2006: 17. Such-Gutiérrez 2005–2006: 17. cusas 20 40 obv. 6. Such-Gutiérrez 2003: 1 247, 330. Note the seal of a certain Ma-gu-ul impressed on natn 83, 641 and 662, who is called ir₁₁-gu-la; Such-Gutiérrez (2003: 1 330) presents this as a possible attestation of Gula at Nippur. For the journey of Gula as “Ninisina of Umma” to Nippur, see paragraph 2.3.2. Furthermore an ugula e₂ dgu₂-la₂ and sukkal dgu₂-la₂ are attested at Nippur (Kraus 1951: 227; Such-Gutiérrez 2003: 1 248). Note the seal impression of Ur-Meme found on a Nippur document, where he is called ugula e₂ dgu₂-la₂ lu₂ i₃-si-in (Ni 482, Kraus 1951: 227); this seems however accidental, as neither Gu₂-la₂ nor Gula were worshiped at Isin at this time. tcl 5 6053 iii 15–16 (Ur iii, Sallaberger 1993: 1 103; Such-Gutiérrez 2003: 2 221 [Tab. 23a.1]) and tmh nf 1/2 275: 3–4 (Such-Gutiérrez 2003: 1 247; 2 222 [Tab. 23a.2]). tmh nf 1/2 275: 3–4 (Such-Gutiérrez 2003: 1 247). Such-Gutiérrez 2003: 1 168–172; Richter 2004: 70, 108; see also Chapter 3. tcl 5 6053 iii 15–16 (Ur iii, see paragraph 2.1) and cbs 7075 obv. 2, 11, which has dgu₂-
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offering record form Nippur confirms that her cult continued there.20 Gu₂-la₂ does not appear in Old Babylonian Sumerian literary works, incantations, royal inscriptions or any other additional text genre; besides the already mentioned offering lists, the name dgu₂-la₂ appears only in Old Babylonian god lists and in an inscription on an Old Babylonian seal, in which she is paired with the god Ab-u₂. These references point to another deity, namely (U)kulla(b), and could shed interesting light on the image of Gu₂-la₂, who otherwise remains so enigmatic—especially because she disappeared from the cuneiform record after the Old Babylonian period. This relationship with (U)kulla(b) will be discussed below. Like Gu₂-la₂, Gula does not occur in many sources in the Ur iii period, and her healing role is only known from indirect evidence. Gula’s cult can be detected in the south of Babylonia in the Ur iii period, namely in the cities of Ur, Uruk and Umma, where she consistently was called Gula.21 It is often postulated that Isin or Umma was the main cult center of Gula,22 but because there is no evidence that Gula had a cult at Isin before the reign of Hammurabi, previous assumptions that she originates in this place can be rejected.23 At Umma she had a thriving cult, as well as at ki-an and Isala, towns in the vicinity of Umma.24 She does however not seem to originate at Umma, as she did not belong to the city’s patron deities. The latter were Šara and his wife Ninur(a),
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21 22 23
24
la₂ u₃ dpa kaš₄-gi₆-meš ḫar-ra-(na) (Old Babylonian Nippur, Van Lerberghe 1989; see also Richter 2004: 112–113; a picture of the tablet is published on the cdli website: http://cdli .ucla.edu/dl/photo/P262124.jpg). Ḫendursag is the night watchman patrolling the streets and providing light at night, see George 2015; see also Edzard 1975; Such-Gutiérrez 2003: 1 331–332. cbs 7111: 8 refers to some sort of temple structure of Gu₂-la₂ (Robertson 1984: 172–175 [edition], 185–186 [photographs]; see also Richter 2004: 112; a photo of the tablet is published on the cdli website http://cdli.ucla.edu/dl/photo/P262150.jpg). Robertson (1984: 172) reads dgu-la₂-e₃-de₃ e₂-ad-da-na, which he translates as “to go out to the god Gula (in?) the ‘shrine/temple of the father(s)’”. After collation it can be confirmed that the divine name should be read dgu₂-la₂. Sallaberger 1993: 1 153–154; Such-Gutiérrez 2003: 1 246–248. To Nippur she made journeys as “Ninisina of Umma”, see paragraph 3.2.3. E.g. Römer 2001: 107–108; Asher-Greve and Westenholz 2013: 84; Böck 2014: 9. See also Richter (2004: 181), who states that Gula originated in “[einem] Ort in Südbabylonien”. For Gula’s appearance in the Ur iii period, see further Schneider 1939: 31 nos. 174– 176; Sigrist 1992: 168; Such-Gutiérrez 2003: 246–247. Sallaberger 1993: 1 153–154; Such-Gutiérrez 2003: 1 330. In a list of offerings to rare deities probably originating from the city of Umma (Peat 1975), one finds dgu-la ki-anki and dgula Ummaki. In uti 5 3493 ii 2, dgu-[la] I₇-sal₄-la[ki] is mentioned. For the location of Isala, see Edzard and Farber 1974: 84–85. For the Umma’s city deity Šara carrying the names Šara of Umma and ki-an, see Sallaberger 1993: 1 236–245; M.E. Cohen 2015: 176.
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and later also Inana of Zabala.25 Gula was sometimes associated with Šara and Inana,26 but she was not normally part of the circle of these three deities. She was also not part of the circle of the city deities of Ur (Nanna) and Uruk (Inana), the other cities where she had a cult and played a role in festivals and cultic ceremonies.27 Although Šara was associated with the Otherworld and divination, none of the main Umma deities had a healing function.28 She played an inferior role in yearly festivals of the city and main royal offerings (sizkur₂ lugal) were often dedicated to her alone.29 It appears that Gula’s cult was originally not strictly bound to one specific place in the Mesopotamian heartland, and that she became especially popular in Umma and surroundings in the Ur iii period, as well as among the Ur iii kings, possibly because of her intrinsic healing qualities. The latter are brought to light by several sources from the Ur iii period, albeit indirectly, such as her association with other healing deities and asûs; this will be discussed in paragraph 2.3. Gula’s name may also reflect her healing role. The explanation of Gula as “the great one” is rel25
26
27
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For Šara in the Fara god list, see Krebernik 1986: 164; Huber Vuillet 2009: 31. His wife Ninur(a), who was attested already in the Early Dynastic period, was given epithets that emphasize her close relation to Umma, e.g. ama-tu-da Ummaki “birth mother of Umma”; see the Pre-Sargonic riddles from Lagaš (Cavigneaux and Krebernik 2001b). The fact that Ninur(a) was called “Mother of Umma” and that she was mentioned before Šara in older offering lists, may indicate that Ninur(a), not Šara, was the original city deity of Umma; see Waetzoldt 2014: 322. In the Old Babylonian period Inana (of Zabala), the mother of Šara, grew in importance and received the title “mother of Umma” (Waetzoldt 2014: 321). Gula received royal offerings with Šara once (uti 5 3267 rev. 1–2, see Chapter 2 footnote 100), and Gula ki-anki is mentioned with regards to the offerings made during the preparation and ritual cleansing of Šara’s ship in month 4; Šara may thus have visited the goddess in ki-anki on the journey he made on this ship (Sallaberger 1993: 1 241, 243–244, 253). Gula was related to Inana in the context of the u₂-sag festival, a festival that was most probably connected to the Damu in Balag edena usagake; in this Balag, Gula travels to Zabala with Ningipar, Ninibgal and Ninigizibara, who were part of Inana’s circle (Sallaberger 1993: 1 233–234; Wiggermann 1997: 41; Cooper 2006: 41–42; Gabbay 2015: 183–184; M.E. Cohen 2015: 90). For Uruk and Ur, where festivals were dedicated to her and she had temples that was used for rituals during the installment of priests and priestesses, see Sallaberger 1993: 1 154, 215 n. 1023; 2 117–119 Table 68; Richter 2004: 315, 465; Paoletti 2012: 250; Huber Vulliet 2014. The Gula temple at Uruk was visited by the king of Ur and Gula received an a-ru-a lugal, a royal votive offering (auct 2 292); Paoletti (2012: 250–251, 385–386) suggests the possiblity that this travel was instigated by an illness in the royal circles. In her temple at Ur she received textiles together with Damu (uet 3 736 rev. 11; Neumann 2003: 54), as well as offerings for Damu and Gunura (auct 2 97 rev. 5–8; tcl 2 5482 ii 1–5; Sallaberger 1993: 1 154 n. 737). See also ctmma 1 25: 14, 19 (Puzriš-Dagan), which mentions a temple of Gula; Richter 2004: 180–181, 467. Huber Vuillet 2009: 32–33. Sallaberger 1993: 1 272–273; 2 152–155 Tables 88–91.
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atively unproblematic as gu-la is a common writing for qualifying something as “great” (see ur gu-la, “great man”).30 It can qualify divine names, as an integral part of a divine name (Allagula) or as an adjective, such as in the Ur iii divine name Ninisina-gula.31 Gula was the “the great one” who heals, perhaps “great” as in “old”, i.e. the one who from the beginning of time had the ability and knowledge to heal. Whereas Gula is, albeit indirectly, associated with healing, no such connections can be established for Gu₂-la₂, for whose name is no satisfying explanation.32 As mentioned earlier, one last element needs to be considered to fully understand Gu₂-la₂ and Gula, and that is that in the Old Babylonian period, a goddess whose name could be written Gu₂-la₂ and (more rarely) Gula was linked to the goddess (U)kulla(b) and paired with the god Ab-u₂. The latter two have in common that they were tied to the Trans-Tigridian region and that their names are marked by a flexible orthography, which rather complicates matters. The evidence does not allow for many clear conclusions, but the following paragraphs are an attempt to provide clarity on who these different deities were and how they interrelated.
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Gu₂-la₂ on the other hand is never used for gal/gu-la (See also Such-Gutiérrez 2003: 1 247; for possible Old Babylonian occurrences, see the previous paragraph). Cf. Böck (2015a: 332 n. 5), who seems to understand gul to be a different verb than gal: she states that, based on Krecher (1993: 90) and Black (2000: 13), “Sumerian gu-la should be derived from a fientive verb *gul”. However, it was merely suggested by Krecher (1993: 87 n. 20; 90) that when gal is conjugated, it is written with gul, its fientive form; Black (2000: 13, 14) only stated that the adjective gu-la may be a verbal “participial” form with the suffix -a (gu-ul+a), and translates it as “large”. Schneider 1939: 57 no. 429; see also Nungal-gula (mvn 3 344 rev. 26) and Ninšubur-gula (uet 3 267 rev. i 16); Krecher 1993: 90; Such-Gutiérrez 2003: 1 225 n. 987. Cf. Böck (2015a: 332 n. 5) who states that these occasions point to another meaning, such as “greater”, “greatest”, “former, retired” (as in Steinkeller 1981: 83 n. 29—used for professions) or “main”/“capital” (Steinkeller 2011: 376 n. 15). The Sumerian compound verb gu₂-la₂, “to lean over” or “embrace”, is used to describe an embrace accompanied by joy, happy feelings and flattering, or one indicating a loving relationship (e.g. Gilgameš, Enkidu and the Netherworld line 244 [Gadotti 2014: 159, 220]; Iddin-Dagan A [etcsl 2.5.3.1] line 199; Išme-Dagan i [ectsl 2.5.4.09] line 93); it is furthermore used to describe animals that intertwine, such as snakes: in the Temple Hymns, the temple gate of Ištarān in Dēr, a Trans-Tigridian snake deity, is decorated with a horned viper (muš-šag4-tur₃)and a mušḫuššu embracing: Temple Hymns (etcsl 4.80.1 line 418). This would thus fit a ophidian character, which is interesting in the light of her possible identification with (U)kulla(b), see below.
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Disentangling Gula, Gu₂-la₂ and (U)kulla(b)
2.2.1 Trans-Tigridian Snake and Healing Deities The Trans-Tigridian area, i.e. the area between the Tigris River and the Zagros Mountains, was a buffer zone between Mesopotamia and Elam, or perhaps better, an area on the margins of these two great centers, with close (trade) connections to the Mesopotamian heartland, which is also reflected in mythology.33 The deities from this region are often ophidian and chthonic in nature,34 the most important of which is Tišpak/Ninazu. Tišpak, who based on his name probably was of foreign nature, perhaps from Elam—where snake deities were common—became head of the pantheon of Ešnunna in the Old Akkadian period at the latest.35 A deity called Ninazu also had a cult center in southern Mesopotamia (Enegi). It is possible that the cult of this southern deity spread to the north through cultural contact, who then became associated with a deity with similar (healing) qualities in the Ešnunna region, namely the snake deity Tišpak, who in his turn took on the Sumerian name Ninazu.36 It is also possible that the southern Ninazu was different from the one in Ešnunna, with two individual deities bearing the same divine name. Since Ninazu, which means “Lord Healer”, is an epithet incorporating the function or title of a god, it could well be attributed to more than one deity, and the Ninazu in the north has different characteristics than the one in the south. As discussed in paragraph 1.2, it is common in ancient societies to have several healing deities who are geographical manifestations of a higher power who heals. This would mean that the Ninazu in the north was (the cognomen of) the original local deity of Ešnunna, who got partly merged with Tišpak once he was taken up in the pantheon of Ešnunna. For this would speak that Ninazu and Tišpak were not fully merged and were mentioned alongside of each other in, for instance, god lists and the
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Steinkeller 1998; Potts 2004: 85–159; Renette 2013. This has been discussed in detail by Wiggermann 1997; 2000a; 2000b. Sommerfeld (2002) concludes that Tišpak is “der alteingesessene Stadtgott von Ešnunna”, who merely based on coincidence is only attested at Ešnunna until the Old Akkadian period. Tišpak may have become the god of Ešnunna very early on, in the late 4th millennium or early 3rd millennium b.c.e., as a consequence of the emerging trading networks between Elam and Mesopotamia. Wiggermann (1989) interpreted the combat myth The Slaying of the Labbu as a reflection of Tišpak’s rise to power at Ešnunna (only a Standard Babylonian version from Assurbanipal’s library is preserved, see Wiggermann 1989; Lambert 2013: 361–365). See Van Dijk 1960: 77; 1969: 539; Sommerfeld 2002 states that the original deity of Ešnunna, Tišpak, was merged with the southern, Sumerian god Ninazu in the late 3rd millennium b.c.e.
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Laws of Hammurabi,37 in combination with the fact that the southern and northern Ninazu had different characteristics.38 Also, Tišpak was never worshiped in the south. Another interesting fact that would fit an originally local divine asû with the name Ninazu is that the deities from the Diyala region had healing properties, which fits their chthonic/snake nature,39 and could be called asû, as is the case with Ištarān and Gaga/Kaka.40 Probably as a result of this, there are multiple links between these deities and healing goddesses, including Gula, although they mostly date to the 1st millennium b.c.e.41 By this time, any deity with these qualities was associated with Gula, who by then 37 38
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Wiggermann 2000a: 333; Sommerfeld 2002. See also below. Wiggermann (1989: 122 n. 16; 1997: 35) maintains that there is no distinction in the identity of the two Ninazus. However, there are some significant differences: they have different spouses, namely (U)kulla(b) in the Diyala and Ningirida in the south (for Ningirida, see Krebernik 2000a: 362) and unlike the Trans-Tigridian snake god Ninazu (Wiggermann 1997), the Ninazu of Enegi is not snake-like; he rather was associated with a dog, see the za₃-mi₃ hymn to Ninazu from Tell Abu Salabikh (Biggs 1974: 50, 55, line 136; see also Krebernik 1984c: 181; Wiggermann 2000a: 333; Sibbing Plantholt 2017: 166). Only in the broken hymn Šulgi D (307–308; Klein 1981: 114; Steinkeller 1981: 86–87; Wiggermann 1989: 121), which can be dated to the Old Babylonian period, he has a mušḫuš at Enegi, which could be due to the confusion of the two by this time. Note an Early Dynastic mace head that is decorated with entwined snakes and carries an inscription dedicated to a d⸢nin⸣-[x]-zu (Amiet 1970: 14–15, fig. 8), but this space between the nin and the zu would rather call for a large sign like gir₂ (for Ningirsu) rather than A. The involvement of snakes in healing practice and their healing qualities are discussed in Chapter 5. The personal name Išarān-asû(a-su) occurs in an early Old Babylonian document from Malgium (Jacobsen 1937–1939: 364 line 4); the personal name Ga-ga-a-zu occurs at Tell as-Suleimeh on the Diyala where the river cuts through the Jebel Hamrin, identified by Rasheed (1981) as ancient Awal; see also Visicato 1999; Steinkeller 1981: 165–168; 1982: 293– 294. Gula is connected to Ištarān through Dēr, where Gula had a cult center in the 1st millennium b.c.e.; see paragraph 3.1.1.1 and through the fact that another name for Ištarān is Anu rabû, written an-gal but also an-gu-la (= dgu-la), and the fact that the Dēr goddess Bēlet-balāṭi “the lady of life” is Gula’s epithet, or perhaps even another name for her (see paragraph 3.3.1.2). For for an-gu-la, see Hinz 1965. The Diyala goddess Gaga/Kaka occurs in the Old Babylonian forerunner of an=Anum tcl 15 10: 379 (viii 40) under the name dga-ga in the list of deities following Gu₂-la₂, Ninisina and Ninkarrak. The orthography dga-ka-ka-ga can be found in the 1st millennium b.c.e. an= Anum 5 146 in the segment of Ninisina/Ninkarrak (Litke 1998: 182). In the 1st millennium b.c.e. god list ct 25 8: 13–14, Ninigirida is equated with Gula, following Ninazu, who is equated with Ninurta. Ninazu is also a spouse of the healing deity in the Gula Hymn of Bulluṭsa-rabi (Lambert 1967b: 118 lines 44–53). According to Richter (2004: 520), this interpretation of Ninazu as a spouse of Gula goes back to the merge of Ninazu with Ninurta/Ningirsu (as son of Enlil and Ninlil); however, this connection may also have been established through the link between (U)kulla(b), Ninazu’s spouse, and Gula, see below.
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had become the most prominent healing goddess. However, there is an older relationship between Gu₂-la₂ and Gula and two Trans-Tigridian (snake) deities, namely Ab-u₂ and (U)kulla(b). 2.2.2 Ab-u₂ as Spouse of Gu₂-la₂, Gula and/or (U)kulla(b)? A deity with a name written Ab-u₂42 was worshiped in the Diyala already in the early 3rd millennium b.c.e., based on an Early Dynastic or Early Akkadian oval copper bowl dedicated to the house of this god found at Ešnunna.43 The copper bowl was found in the vicinity of a temple that consequently was called the “Abu temple”,44 although the argumentation for this identification is weak.45 Evidence from the Old Akkadian period suggests that this Diyala deity was a snake god whose name should be understood as the Semitic Ibaʾum/Ipaḫum, “viper”.46 This writing is also found in the Diyala region in the town Bāb-Ibaʾum 42
43 44
45
46
For the discussion of the reading Abu (dab-u₂) or Abba (dab-ba₆), see for instance Selz 1995: 17 n. 4; Marchesi 2002: 168; Richter 2004: 118–119 n. 526; Peterson 2009: 49. Based on one occasion, Marchesi and Marchetti (2011: 227 n. 64) conclude that it is likely that Ab-bu represents a secondary form of Ab-u₂; Keetman (2018) suggests the reading dab-bu₁₁ for Ab-u₂. In this work, the writing Ab-u₂ will be used. Ab-u₂ should be distinguished from the Old Akkadian deity Ilaba (il₃-a-ba₄; for this god, see Roberts 1972: 148–149; Krebernik 2018), as well as from the deities with the name dab-ba and da-ba, who are normally not associated with dab-u₂, having separate entries in god lists (contra Richter 2004: 117–118, 197 with footnote 875), see for instance Nippur God List slt 122 vii 13′ (Peterson 2009: 47) and an=Anum 2 369 (Litke 1998: 110). See further Roberts 1972: 12, 62–63. See Marchesi 2002: 168–169 for the 1st millennium b.c.e. association between dab-u₂ and dab-ba, the doorkeeper of the Esagil in an=Anum 2 268 (Middle Assyrian version of an=Anum ybc 2401 iv 27–28 [dab-ba] with Neo-Assyrian version ct 24 16: 17–18 [dab-u₂], Litke 1998: 99) and Tintir 2 29′–30′ (George 1992: 54–55). Based on linguistic arguments, Keetman (2018) treats Abba as a variant of Ab-u₂, which he reads, as mentioned earlier, as Abbu. As. 32 1060; Müller-Karpe 1990: 768; Steible 1982: 1 202–203 (AnEšn 2); Braun-Holzinger 1991: 124 (G 52). Frankfort 1934: 39–46 with figure 35; Christian 1940: Tafel 191 2; Delougaz and Lloyd 1942: 159, 291, 298, no. 12; Delougaz, Hill and Lloyd 1967: 184–185; Jacobsen 1989: 128; see also Evans 2007. A bowl mentioning the temple of Ab-u₂ was found in a cache in a wall of an Early Dynastic “secular” building in a level contemporaneous to the earliest building phase of “the Abu temple”, which was located a few meters north of the wall (see references in previous footnote). This however does not allow for a positive identification of the temple as a temple of Ab-u₂, nor does it substantiate the suggestion that a large Early Dynastic statue found in a hoard in the temple is a representation of the god Abu (Frankfort 1934: 40–46, followed by Jacobsen 1989; Braun-Holzinger [1977: 10 with footnote 9] already challenged this; see also Marchesi and Marchetti 2011: 12, 227). The latter is also improbable because Evans (2012: 146–178) has demonstrated that these statues represented donors rather than deities. The translation “viper” for ibaʾum/ipahum is based on the entry muš-ama = i₃-ba-u₃-um in line 34 of the Ebla vocabulary mee 4 351: 034, and the connection of ibaʾum to the Hebrew
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(ka₂-di-ba-um), which is mentioned in four date formulae of Bilalama found in Ešnunna, and reinforces the fact that Ab-u₂/Ibaʾum had a cult of his own in this area.47 The name of this deity could thus be written as (d)ab-u₂ and i-ba-um/i-pa-um,48 but also as dib-u₂, dab-ba-u₂, and dip-pu.49 He was part of the household of the Trans-Tigiridian snake god Ninazu/Tišpak, with whom he is depicted on Old Akkadian seal bm 122125.50 The image shows a snake god standing on a mušḫuššu, Ninazu’s attribute, and he is approached by a bearded god leading a visiting bearded worshiper to his master. The seal is dedicated to Ibaʾum by Be-li₂-bal for his life and the life of his son Ur-Ninazu. The snake god on the mušḫuššu is Ninazu, who can be securely identified based on the name of the son of the owner of the seal, his worshiper, and the interceding deity is Ninazu’s vizir Ibaʾum.51 Although Ibaʾum is a viper, he is depicted anthropomorphically on this seal, but his ophidian nature is integrated in the scene through the vipers coming out from Ninazu’s shoulders.52 This also emphasizes the fact that the vizir Ibaʾum was the personification of his master’s characteristic snake aspect.53
47
48
49
50 51 52 53
word ʾefˁeh, “viper” (Civil 1984: 91); see Wiggermann (1994: 233; 1997: 37 n. 38) for the suggestion that the Sumerian ama is a Semitic loanword. In the pre-Sargonic riddles from Lagaš, muš-ama also occurs as a kind of snake (Biggs 1973: 30 × 1′). oip 43: 178–179 [date formula nos. 65–69]; see also Edzard 1977; Groneberg 1980: 128–129. The date formulae have been preserved on 19 tablets; the divine name is consistently written with a divine determinative. I-pa-um is also an Old Babylonian personal name (AbB 14 221: 2) that may have been given to the individual as a result of a physical appearance reminiscent of a snake at birth, such as scales. Ab-ba-u₂ is an orthographic variant of Ab-u₂ in the Lament over the Destruction of Ur lines 24–25, see Tallqvist 1938: 257; Kramer 1940: 74; Römer 2004: 15. Note that the gender of the deity here is variable (see also Gabbay 2015: 79). dib-u₂ is a variant of dab-u₂ in a Weidner God List exemplar from Ugarit (Ug. 5 218 [rs. 22.334+ no. 124]: 132). The writings ab-u₂ and ib-u₂ indicate the glottal stop or laryngeal (aleph two/*h) that is typical for this name. dip-pu is the name of the vizir of Ninigišzida (⸢sukkal⸣ [dnin-giš-zi]-⸢da⸣-ke₄) in an=Anum 5 262 (Litke 1998: 193; preserved only on ybc 2401). The identification between Ippû and Ibaʾum had been established by Van Dijk 1969: 546; Wiggermann 1985–1986: 12 n. 38; 1994: 233; 1997: 36–37. was 2 75 no. 144, pl. xxi; uava 4: no. 570; Braun-Holzinger 1991: 351 n. 974, 355, Plate 23; Wiggermann 1997: 36–37 fig. 2c. The seal was acquired from a private collection. Wiggermann 1985–1986: 12 n. 38; 1997: 36–37. Wiggermann 1997: 37. We see the same process in Bašmu (servant of Tišpak) and Niraḫ (servant of Ištarān), Wiggermann 1997: 37–44. Vizirs had an important role as doorkeepers of their masters and could be anthropomorphic in this role (Wiggermann 1985–1986: 12 n. 37, 16–23). Perhaps the deity dab-ba, doorkeeper of the Esagil in an=Anum 2 268, should be understood as Ab-u₂ (see footnotes 42 and 57 in this chapter). It is possible that after the fall of Ešnunna
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Similar to Ninazu, the name Ab-u₂ is known from the Diyala as well as southern Mesopotamia.54 This Ab-u₂ had no clear ophidian character and was more so connected to dying and vegetation deities, and thus may also be a different deity, or a variant of the snake deity. In the literary composition Enki and Ninḫursag, dab-u₂ is mentioned among Ninazu, Ningišzida and Nindara as the sibling of their spouses Ningirida, Nazi and Azimua.55 In the context of this text, he may have had healing powers, since his name was explained as dab-u₂ lugal u₂ ḫe₂-a, “Abu, lord of the (medicinal?) plants”; this word play 0r gelehrte Etymologie encompasses his healing as well as his ophidian nature.56 It is this Ab-u₂ in the south that seems to receive offerings in Ur iii Kuʾara as part of the temple of Ninsun.57 Little is otherwise known about cult centers of a deity with the name Ab-u₂. There seems to be no overlap with the cult centers of Gu₂-la₂ and Gula, except for those at Old Babylonian Ur, where Gula and Ab-u₂ had a shrine—however, there they were not explicitly associated.58
54
55 56 57
58
and consequent loss of importance of the Ešnunna deities, Abu was taken on in Marduk’s household as vizir/doorkeeper (and lost his snake and chthonic character). For this process and the fact that an=Anum 5 reflects an older stage than Tablet 2, see Wiggermann 1985–1986: 48. Deimel 1968: 34; Falkenstein 1966: 64; Selz 1995: 17–18, who states that there may also have been a female Ab-u₂ based on the epithet ama (d)ab-u₂, who appears in field personal names in Lagaš. for female Ab-u₂ in the 1st millennium b.c.e. who is associated with the healing goddesses, see an=Anum 5 60 (Litke 1998: 174) and Eršemas (Cohen 1988: 619; Gabbay 2015: 73, 79). Note that also Ištarān, chief deity of Dēr, is known in southern Mesopotamia, at Early Dynastic Lagaš and Umma (Lambert 1977b). Enki and Ninḫursag (Attinger 1984; etcsl 1.1.1) lines 272–280. Enki and Ninḫursag line 273; see also Marchesi 2002: 168. tcl 2 5482 iii 9 and tcl 2 5514 obv. 20; Sallaberger 1993: 2 134; Steinkeller 1995: 277 n. 12; Richter 2004: 119, 197; see also Heimpel 1981a. Richter (2004: 118–119 with footnote 526, 197) consequently assumed that Ab-u₂ (which he reads as Abba) was a deity from Kuʾara belonging to the Marduk/Asalluḫi circle, for which he refers to dab-ba as doorkeeper in the Esagil in An=Anum 2 268; I assume that, as mentioned above, the later associations between Ab-u₂ and Marduk are due to the fact that Ab-u₂ from Ešnunna was taken into Marduk’s (and Asalluḫi’s) circle through Babylon’s conquest of his cult center. Based on 1st millennium b.c.e. associations between Ninsun and Gula, Richter (2004: 197) also sees a connection between Ab-u₂ and Gula in this relation to the Ninsun temple. uet 5 112b: i 25; 112a ii 2 (broken); Richter 2004: 467. Richter (2004: 119, 197, 525) states that Ab-u₂ has a cult at Isin, because in one document dating to Išbi-Erra year 13, a deity called dab-ba receives offerings (bin 9 321: 4). The identification of Ab-u₂ as Ab-ba is however unsure, and nothing else is known about this deity, but see footnotes 42 and 57 in this chapter. Note furthermore that Gula at the time of this document was not worshiped at Isin yet. Richter (2004: 117, 119) also assumes that he had a cult center at Nippur based on the seal impression on pbs 8/2 141, which reads dda-mu a-zu-gal dumu d⸢a⸣-ba. The latter is according to him a writing for dab-u₂ (which he reads dab-ba₆), but this interpretation is doubtful: based on collations it can be concluded that the first sign of the name after dumu
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All in all, it can be concluded that the Ab-u₂ from the Ešnunna region was the ophidian vizir of Ninazu/Tišpak, and although there is no clear connection between Gu₂-la₂ and Gula based on their cult, he was coupled with a deity named Gu₂-la₂ and Gula. In the Weidner God List, even from the Old Babylonian period, the orthography dgu-la is used for the spouse of Ab-u₂,59 and the pair is followed by dgu-la-zi-da, “the true Gula”. The writing Gulazida in the Weidner God List may have served to separate the spouse of Ab-u₂ from the true Gula, the healing goddess of old who became more and more widespread and well-known from the Old Babylonian period on.60 Ab-u₂ and Gu₂-la₂ occur together on an Old Babylonian seal, var 440, which bears a presentation scene and the inscription dab-u₂ / dgu₂-la₂.61 The pair is also mentioned in god lists, such as in The Nippur God List, where Gu₂-la₂ and Ab-u₂ are listed separately from the section with Bau, Ninisina, Gula and Ninkarrak, who are associated with Ninurta and his manifestations.62 In the non-standard Nippur God List slt 118+ Gu₂-la₂ is also paired with Ab-u₂, where
59
60
61 62
is hardly visible, and the second sign looks too complex for ba, which makes the reading aba unlikely. Moreover, dda-mu-a-zu-gal could well be a personal name (e.g. cad a/2: 529; psd a/1: 207), in which case the name after dumu belongs to the father of the individual named Damu-azugal. And lastly, a-ba is normally not an orthography of Ab-u₂ (see footnote 42). Richter (2004: 119) also suggests that e₂ da-ba in pbs 8/2 110 obv. 4 refers to a temple of da-bu₂ at Nippur, and that this brings him close to another healing deity, namely Ninkarrak, as the temple is located near the e-sir₂ dnin-kar-ra, “the NinkarrakStraße” (Richter 2004: 114; for this orthography of the name Ninkarrak, see paragraph 4.1.1). However, A-bu₂ and Ninkarrak were not paired, and there is no evidence that in Old Babylonian Nippur, the cult and names of Gula and Ninkarrak were directly equated. It thus remains unclear which deity is meant here, but it is unlikely that this is indeed Ab-u₂. vs 24 20 rev. i 5′–7′: dab-u₂ / dgu-la / dgu-la-zi-da (compare Richter 2004: 224); see also the Old Babylonian fragment from Tell Taban: Tab T07–1 iii′ 1′ ⸢d⸣[gu-la-zi-da]; the two preceding entries are not preserved (Shibata 2009: 36, 39). Two exemplars from Ugarit contain the passage (Ug. 5 218 [no. 119]: 132–134 [dab-u₂ / dgu-la / dgu-la-zi-da]; Ug. 5 218 [no. 124]: 132– 134 [dib-u₂ / dgu-la / dgu-la-zi-da-an-da]). In the Weidner List from Emar, dab-[u₂] / dgu-l[a] / dgu-la-z[i-da] is preserved (Emar 6/4 539: 87′–88′; Gantzert 2006: 307 nos. 147–149); for 1st millennium b.c.e. exemplars (sometimes also only partly preserved), see Cavigneaux 1981: 92–93 lines 144–146 (79.B.1/235 vii′, 79.B.1/224 ii′); oect 4 143, 145; cbs 2157 (slt 8) ii 2′–3′, Peterson 2008: 46. Note that Ab-u₂ was the spouse of Gula the healing goddess in the 1st millennium b.c.e. god list an=Anum (an=Anum 5 54–55, Litke 1998: 174), but this is probably caused by the confusion between (U)kulla(b), Gu₂-la₂ and Gula at this time, see below. See Braun-Holzinger 1996: 337 no. 1048, who mistakenly transliterates dab-ba₄ / dgu₂-la. The presentation scene cannot directly be linked to the deities. slt 122+: 41–44 (Bau, Ninisina, Gula and Ninkarrak); 108–109 (Gu₂-la₂ and Ab-u₂); Peterson 2009: 32, 34; see Fritz 2003: 61.
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they are associated with Ninisina, Ningirsu and Bau.63 Also in the Old Babylonian an=Anum forerunner tcl 15 10 one finds the sequence dab-u₂ / dkulla (sig₄) / dgu₂-la₂.64 This sequence points to the possible identification of Gu₂la₂ as (U)kulla(b), who, like Ab-u₂, originated in Ešnunna and was linked to the Trans-Tigridian deity Ninazu/Tišpak. 2.2.3 (U)kulla(b), Gu₂-la₂, and Gula The first proof of the cult of (U)kulla(b) at Ešnunna dates to the early Old Babylonian period, unless the Early Dynastic geographic center giš.u₃.ku.kulab₄ki/giš.u₃-kul₂-laki is an equivalent of the later Dūr-Ukulla, and thus named after the deity.65 The spelling (d)u₃-kul₂(gul)-la₂ was favored in the Old Babylonian period, and in her home town Ešnunna as well as Mê-Turan this orthography was consistently used. The assumption that Ešnunna was her main cult center is supported by the numerous references to her at this site. She had two shrines in Ešnunna: a distinction was made between (U)kulla(b) of the Ganun and “(U)kulla(b) of the city”.66 Jacobsen (1940: 184) recognized these as two separate temples of (U)kulla(b), the ganun as the “bedchamber” in the Esikila, Tišpak’s temple, and one smaller public shrine in the city. Charpin has suggested that these may be two spousal households, one the temple of (U)kulla(b) and one the temple of Tišpak, as a divine parallel of a common practice among the royal couple, who can have separate residences. This duality is for instance also found for Nanna and Ningal in Ur.67 Her spousal relationship to Tišpak is further emphasized in a short Old Babylonian god list in which her name occurs directly after Tišpak68 and in the greeting formula of an Old Babylonian letter sent by the en-priest of Sîn in Tutub to Ur-Ninmar in Ešnunna.69 Once she is
63 64 65
66 67 68 69
She follows Ningirsu and Bau and preceeds Ninisina, obv. i′ 4′–8′ (6′–8′: dab-u₂ / [d]gu₂-la₂ / [d]nin-is[in₂]⸢si-na⸣), Peterson 2009: 93. Gula is omitted or broken off. tcl 15 10: 358–360 (viii 20–22). ed toponym list mee 3 234: 126. Steinkeller (1988: 81) analyzes the two writings as gišdurux (U3)dur₂-kul-ab4ki/ gišdurux(U3)-gul-laki based on the reading durux for U₃, and assumes that this toponym is identical with Dūr-Ugulla (urudu₂-ur-du₃-gul-la₂ki), a settlement mentioned in Old Babylonian letters (AbB 6 118: 12; AbB 14 67: 5, 17) and msl 11 57: ii 43 (bad₃-u₃-gul-la₂ki), where it is listed between Dūrum and Kullab; see also Englund 1995: 47 (for AbB 14 67); Groneberg 1980: 240; Krebernik 2014, who states that it is uncertain if this place name includes the theonym (U)kulla(b). du₃-kul₂-la₂ ga₂-nun (as.30 T 471) and e₂ du₃-k[ul₂-la₂] ša₂ uruki-ka (As. 30 T 708); Jacobsen 1940: 184. Charpin 1986: 306–307. As. 31 T 730 (Jacobsen 1940: 183). Whiting 1987: 88 no. 31 line 6 [As. 30 T 220; oip 43: 184]; see also Renger 1967b: 122. Tišpak and (U)kulla(b) appear after Sîn and Ningal, indicating they are also a spousal couple.
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mentioned as the wife of Ninazu, in an exemplar of an Old Babylonian forerunner of Balag uru₂ am₃-ma-ir-ra-bi from Mê-Turan, in which one finds nin du₃-kul₂-la₂ munus-ša₆-ga, as the wife of ur-sag dnin-a-zu!.70 References to her cult at Ešnunna and Mê-Turan suggest that (U)kulla(b) was significant to the kings of Ešnunna. According to accounts of the palace she received oil- and beer offerings,71 and kings referred to her in their year names. A date formula recorded on one tablet, found below the Ipiq-Adad i palace in Ešnunna and belonging to the Bilalama/Ur-Ninmar period, describes the year that a magnificent table (gišbanšur maḫ) was made for her.72 Another year name found in Mê-Turan records the fashioning of her cult statue.73 There is also a month with her name in the calendars of Ešnunna and Mê-Turan.74 Her connection with the Diyala region is unequivocal, and is, furthermore, confirmed through her close relation to the god Ninazu/Tišpak, Ešnunna’s patron deity. Although the name of (U)kulla(b) was predominantly written (d)u₃-gul/ kul₂-la₂ in the Old Babylonian period, dkul-ab₂ and dkulla (sig₄) seem to have indicated the same deity, namely the spouse of Ninazu/Tišpak.75 Tišpak is coupled with a goddess named dkulla (sig₄) on an Old Babylonian seal var 392, of which the owner is a servant of Tišpak and dkulla (sig₄),76 and probably also in an Old Babylonian incantation.77 Once Ninazu/Tišpak is mentioned with a
70 71 72 73 74 75
76 77
nin du₃-kul₂-la₂ munus-ša₆-ga ur-sag dnin-a-zu!, exemplar H 2 K xxvi 29–30 (found in MêTuran); Volk 1989: 34. As. 31 T 703; As. 30 T 471; As. 31 T 310; see also As. 30 T 708 (Jacobsen 1940: 184). As. 31 T 286 (Jacobsen 1940: 184 no. 87). mu alam du₃-kul₂-la₂ ba-du₃ “the year the statue of (U)kulla(b) was made”, Mustafa 1983: 215 no. 127: 11; see also Krebernik 2014. As. 30 T 235, As. 31 T 391 (Jacobsen 1940: 184); Mustafa 1983: 100 no. 26: 7; 206 no. 121: 13; 213 no. 126: 11; see also Krebernik 2014. Unclear is if (U)kulla(b) is also indicated with the orthography dkul₂-la₂, which occurs in the Mari female personal name fdkul₂-la₂-ḫa-zi-ra-at (administrative texts arm 9 24 iii 12, [36]; 27 iv 24 and v 4; see also arm 16/1: 140) and the Weidner god list from Ugarit as well as its Neo-Babylonian versions (Ug. 5 222: lines 230; see also Gantzert 2006: 308 [line 252]; Cavigneaux 1981: 98 line 242 (79.B.1/41Br-ii′; 79.B.1/200 ii; 79.B.1/135 viii′); Um 29-16-636 + N 1538: 12′ [Peterson 2008: 47]). See also Wiggermann 1989: 120; Krebernik 2014. The goddess is not mentioned with Ešnunna deities nor healing deities; she rather is mentioned with Ninigizibara. The seal depicts a deity who looks like Ištar, holding a gamlu and scimitar and standing on a lion. cusas 32 59 ii 15′ (before, for instance, Ninurta and Nin-Nibru, and Damu and Gula); George (2016: 154) transliterates this line as d⸢x u₃⸣ dsig₄?, but based on the traces in the copy (cusas 32 plate cxxxi), the reading d⸢tišpak u₃⸣ dsig₄ is well possible.
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dkulla (sig₄), in the Nippur God List.78 In the Old Babylonian god list tcl 15 10: 405–406 (ix 20–21), Tišpak is mentioned with dkul-ab₂.79 This implies that the orthography of the name was flexible, and that the /u/ at the beginning and the /b/ at the end of the name could be added or omitted. In the 1st millennium b.c.e., the spouse of Tišpak is called dkul-ab₂, du₂-kulla₂ or du₂-gu₃(ka)-la₂ in god lists;80 du₂-kul-la in hymn kar 109+,81 and du₂-kulab and [d]⸢u₂⸣-kul-ba in Lipšur litanies, in which she is “queen of Ešnunna”.82 The name was at this point thus predominantly written kul, which shows that the writing with a /k/ was preferred, although the name could also have been read as (U)gulla(b). Also the U₂ was now commonly used instead of U₃. The /b/ at the end was still variable.83 What the obscure name (U)kulla(b) meant is difficult to say. Jacobsen (1940: 184) analyzed du₃-kul₂(gul)-la₂ as a Sumerian name related to the element u₃-gul (utnēnu, “prayer”) in the compound verb u₃-gul ga₂-ga₂ (gar). Wiggermann (1989: 120) admitted the possibility of an Sumerian etymology (and ruled out an Akkadian origin), but assumed that the name was not Mesopotamian because of the variety of spellings, and because (U)kulla(b)’s husband Tišpak and son Nanšak have non-Sumerian names. The orthographies with U₂ in the 2nd and 1st millennia b.c.e. could indicate a potentially new understanding of the name as u₂ kul.a.(b), “collect (medicinal) plants!”. Such short sentences for divine names do occur, such as Ē-turamme, “Do not let loose!”, the vizir of the deity Birtu, whose name means “shackle”.84 The goddess (U)kulla(b) is, at least on some occasions, associated with Gu₂la₂ and Gula, especially in god lists. As mentioned in the previous paragraph,
78 79 80
81 82
83 84
slt 122+: 93–94, Peterson 2009: 15, 32; see also Krebernik 2014. Note that Richter (2004: 491–492) reads dkul-ab₂ as dnumun-ab₂. God list an=Anum 5 274 (du₂-kul-la₂) and 275 (du₂-gu₃[ka]-la₂), following Tišpak; See Litke 1998: 193. She is called dkul-ab₂ in god list ct 25 8: 17 (see also Wiggermann 1989: 120; Litke 1998: 193). kar 109+ rev. 2′. In the following line, (rev. 3′), the e₂-sikil-la₂, Tišpak’s temple, is mentioned. For kar 109+, see paragraph 4.3.2. The writing du₂-kul-ab occurs in Lipšur litany ctn 4 110 obv. 12′, directly following Tišpak; she is queen of Ešnunna (du₂-⸢kul⸣-ab lip-šur šar-rat eš₃-nun-na⸢ki⸣; see also Wiseman 1969: 177 (line 33′); a transliteration is published on http://oracc.museum.upenn.edu/cams/ gkab/P363524, visited on 13 November 2019). [d]⸢u₂⸣-kul-ba occurs in Lipšur litany ao 6775 (Nougayrol 1947b: 330, 333) obv. 21′, directly following Tišpak; she probably is also called queen of Ešnunna here (šar-[rat eš₃-nun-naki], Nougayrol 1947b: 330, 333). See also Wiggermann 2000a: 331. an=Anum 5 202. For birtu = shackle [“Band, Fessel”], see AHw i/a: 129–130. Ramû D-stem is often used in context of loosening shackles, ties and other fastenings, see cad r: 129. For Birtu, see Wiggermann 2000a: 332.
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tcl 15 10 contains the sequence dab-u₂ / dkulla (sig₄) / dgu₂-la₂. Since dkulla (sig₄) is a writing for (U)kulla(b),85 and Ab-u₂ is also an Trans-Tigridian deity from the household of Tišpak/Ninazu, there seems to be a contiguity between Gu₂-la₂ and (U)kulla(b). However, Tišpak and (U)kulla(b), written dkul-ab₂, are paired in another section of tcl 15 10.86 Curiously, the pair dab-u₂ / dkulla (sig₄) are placed in the same lines as Tišpak and (U)kulla(b) in the adjacent column, creating a (coincidental?) juxtaposition.87 In this section, Gula is omitted and Ninisina and Ninkarrak follow the name Gu₂-la₂ eight lines later.88 In the Nippur God List, the pair Ab-u₂ and Gu₂-la₂ are far removed from Bau, Ninisina, Gula, Ninkarrak and Ninurta, and thus certainly are perceived as a separate pair, but they are also mentioned separately from Ninazu (Tišpak) and dkulla (sig₄).89 In Non-Standard Old Babylonian Nippur God List slt 118 obv. 1′ 6′–7′, Ab-u₂ and Gu₂-la₂ are mentioned together and are associated with healing goddesses, as they are surrounded by Bau and Ninisina.90 In the Weidner God List, Ab-u₂ occurs next to a deity called Gula, who, as mentioned in the previous paragraph, probably is not the healing goddess Gula, as the latter is designated with the following name Gulazida, the “true Gula”.91
85
86
87
88 89 90 91
See below. dsig₄ is a common writing for the brick god Kulla. Therefore Kraus thinks that Ab-u₂ and Kulla are are male deities and that Gu₂-la₂ and the subsequent names until Nintinuga (line 364) belong to female deities that are identified with each other. The seemingly odd addition of the brick god Kulla is explained by Lambert as a result of a confusion in the writing of Kulla and Gula, with Kulla simply being an orthography used for Gula (Lambert 1981; 2013: 378; he further puts forward the Mari personal name dkul₂-la-ḫa-zira-at, with dkul₂-la as another odd writing for Gula). Richter (2004: 216), who reads Kulla for dsig₄ in his edition of the discussed passage in tcl 15 10, also states that this possibility should be taken into consideration. tcl 15 10: 405–406 (ix 20–21). The third relevant pair is Ninazu and Ningirida, who are mentioned a few lines earlier in tcl 15 10: 400–401 (ix 15–16). Ningirida the wife of Ninazu (Wiggermann 1989: 120; 2000a: 331; Krebernik 2000a: 362) was not associated with Ešnunna, and thus she may have been the wife of Ninazu in southern Mesopotamia, whereas (U)kulla(b) was the spouse of Ninazu/Tišpak in Ešnunna. See copy by de Genouillac 1923. Gu₂-la₂ (viii 22 [line 360]) is juxtaposed to Martulanki (dmar-tu-[la₂]-an!-ki!, ix 22 [line 407]; see Richter 2004: 491–492 for this reconstruction), an obscure deity who appears in connection with Namtar. tcl 15 10: 368–369 (viii 30–31). Based on this, Kraus (1951: 64, 71) assumed that Gu₂-la₂ indicates Gula in this god list. slt 122+: 41–44, 93–94 and 108–109, Peterson 2009: 15, 32, 34. Peterson 2009: 93. E.g. Ug. 5 218 lines 132–134; Cavigneaux 1981: 82 lines 26–27. Tišpak and Ninazu occur at the beginning of the list together with Ningirima. For the curious entry dkul₂-la₂ in this god list, see the previous paragraph.
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2.2.4 Conclusion: Who Is Who? The main conclusion that can be drawn from these hopelessly entangled strands of deities is that there seem to have been three homophonous deities who overlap and at the same time were distinct: (U)kulla(b) the spouse of Tišpak/Ninazu, Gu₂-la₂ the spouse of Ab-u₂, and Gula the healing goddess. This homophony appears to be the main reason for their association. Gu₂-la₂ seems to be the link between the three: this opaque goddess may have become a writing for Gula and (U)kulla(b) as she melted together with both in the Old Babylonian period. Or, perhaps she was (U)kulla(b) all along. Gu₂-la₂, who besides Ab-u₂ only can be connected to Ḫendursag and the city of Nippur, who hardly had a cult at this time, whereas that of the well-known healing goddess Gula rapidly spread, and (U)kulla(b)’s cult was firmly established in the Diyala. The orthographies Gu₂-la₂ and Gula did not occur in Ešnunna—the only potential documentation of Gula is an early 18th century b.c.e. personal name with the (damaged) theophoric element Gula from Chogha Gavaneh, an outpost of Ešnunna in western Iran.92 Perhaps Gu₂-la₂ was an orthography of (U)kulla(b) mainly in the Mesopotamian mainland, where she rather was associated with Ninazu’s aspect Ab-u₂ than with Ninazu, who in southern Mesopotamia was known to have the spouse Ningirida. If Gu₂-la₂ indeed was just another orthography for (U)kulla(b), this could potentially also explain the curious orthographies Gu₂-la and Gu-la-a found at Adab,93 which may reflect the fact that her name could be written in many different ways. However, what complicates matters is that the Old Babylonian god lists often considered Tišpak/Ninazu and (U)kulla(b) as a different pair than Ab-u₂ and Gu₂-la₂, and thus even when Gu₂la₂ stood for (U)kulla(b), this would be a distinct variant of her. It thus remains undecided Gu₂-la₂ and (U)kulla(b) were originally the same deity who developed different variants, or if they were originally two different goddesses who got associated in the Old Babylonian period, in this case seemingly based only on homophony. What stands out is that Gula led her own life alongside of (U)kulla(b) and Gu₂-la₂, with no distinguishable ties to (U)kulla(b), Ab-u₂, or the Diyala, except for her healing character and a name homophonous to (U)kulla(b), which must have been the cause for her rare association with these deities. The link between Gu₂-la₂ and Gula is potentially present in god lists through the assocation between Gu₂-la₂ and other healing goddesses, but in other sources, Gula is
92 93
dgu-l[a- …], ChG 20 rev. iv 16′, Adbi and Beckman 2007: 55–56; for the relationship between Chogha Gavaneh and Ešnunna, see Gentili 2012. See paragraph 2.1.
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never written Gu₂-la₂. Gu₂-la₂ either completely disappears after the Old Babylonian period, or she was fully taken up by Gula or (U)kulla(b), who both were still attested, although the former much more prominently than the latter. The only potential reference to Gu₂-la₂ in the 1st millennium b.c.e. may be found in kar 109+, in which the divine name du₂-kul-la is followed by the epithets ba-nit ri-i-ti ḫa-i-ṭa-at kul-la-ti, “the one who creates meadows and who watches over everything”. These epithets refer through word play and scholarly hermeneutics to the divine names (U)kulla(b), but perhaps also that of Gu₂-la₂.94 The goddess is linked to the Egula, which was Gula’s temple at Borsippa.95 Although Gula and (U)kulla(b) were on some occasions perceived as separate entities, their names were thus associated in the 1st millennium b.c.e. sources. For instance, Gula took on the role as the spouse of Ab-u₂ in an=Anum,96 and Gula was directly equated with (U)kulla(b), written dkul-ab₂, the spouse of Tišpak, in the god list ct 25 8.97 Gula, who as discussed below, had become famous and the most prominent healing goddess in the late 2nd and 1st millennia b.c.e., may have absorbed all deities.
2.3
Gula’s Involvement in Healing and Midwifery in the Ur iii Period
In Paragraph 2.1, it is hypostasized that Gula’s importance was the result of her intrinsic healing qualities. Gula’s role as healing goddess is however only indirectly alluded to in the 3rd millennium b.c.e. None of the Ur iii material explicitly refers to her healing qualities, not even the one incantation she occurs in, which will be discussed below. Nevertheless the picture emerges that she was invoked in case of life events like birth, death, and illness, and represented healing in general, including domestic healing, midwifery, and health care performed by women. Whereas, as discussed in Chapter 4, Ninisina and Bau represented healing in a more official setting connected to specific cult centers, Gula may have been the healing goddess of the people.
94 95 96 97
kar 109+ rev. 2′; see Wiggermann 1989: 120, 127; for kar 109+, see paragraph 4.3.2. See paragraph 3.3.1.1. an=Anum 5 54–55, Litke 1998: 174. ct 25 8: 17, see above. as well as in the Gula Hymn of Bulluṭsa-rabi line 53 (Lambert 1967b: 118–119). On other occasions, (U)kulla(b) and Gula were still kept apart, for instance in the Lipšur litanies mentioned in paragraph 2.2.3. Here Tišpak and (U)kulla(b) of Ešnunna are mentioned next to (and thus separated from) Ninurta and Šarrat Nippuri, Ningirsu and Bau, and Zababa and Gula.
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2.3.1 Association with asûs through Cult There is no evidence of Gula being called asû during the Ur iii period: in fact, Bau is the only healing deity who obtained this title in the late 3rd millennium b.c.e., namely in personal and field names.98 However, a connection between asûs and Gula is may be inferred from the fact that asûs Nawir-ilum and Šukabta, as well as female asû Ubartum, who was probably their sister,99 were involved in royal offerings to Gula and oversaw the distributions of goods to Gula, including (dead) animals, which were then given to dogs by dog handlers (sipa ur-gi₇).100 These asûs were not only involved with distributions to Gula, but also to Ninisina and Nintinuga, as well as Damu.101 As will be discussed in Part 2, the term asû stood for a wide range of healers who could operate in any setting: in the home, at the palace, and potentially also at the temple. There is however no reason to assume, nor is there concrete evidence that supports, that healing by humans was performed at temples; it is much more likely that only divine healing took place by the goddesses in these temples. Highly placed asûs may have been involved in the cult of healing goddesses and Damu, and brought offerings as the goddesses as ultimate divine healers; they did, however, not belong to the cultic personnel. Why Gula received dead animals is unclear: either the carcasses were used to feed dogs, or the animals served to feed the personnel of the temple.102 These
98 99 100
101 102
See paragraph 4.3. Kleinerman 2011a: 179–180. Durand and Charpin 1980: 143–145; Sallaberger 1993: 1 13–14, 29; Richter 2004: 465; Yuhong 2008; Tsouparopoulou 2012: 1 n. 2; 2020; see also Chapter 2. Until Šu-Sîn year 6, these offerings are called sa₂-du₁₁ dGu-la, “consignments of Gula”, and thereafter sa₂-du₁₁ ur-gi₇-ra, “consignment of the dogs”. Tsouparopoulou (2020: 17) believes that ur-gi₇, “dog”, could be used as a substitute for Gula’s name, but this is not the case (e.g. dur-gi₇ is not a name for Gula nor is the e₂-ur-gi₇-ra her temple, see below). The dog is merely an aspect of her, and this is only evidenced from the Old Babylonian period on. Tsouparopoulou 2012: 1 n. 2 mentions that the dogs of Gula received sheep, whereas the dogs that according to her relate to the army, received equids. See also Owen 2013b; Tsouparopoulou 2020. There may be a connection between the dogs related to the army and dogs associated with Gula. Tsouparopoulou (2020: 17 n. 22) sees a link between the the two types of dogs, the war dogs that serve to wound and kill and dogs associated with healing, and the divine pair of healing goddesses and their warrior-like spouses. However, at this time Gula does not have a spouse yet and is not linked to warrior-like male deities like Ninurta yet. For offerings at Nippur, see cusas 3 574; Yuhong 2008: 11, 22; Paoletti 2012: 252; For Umma, see uti 5 3267 rev. 1–2, in which the offering is administered to “Šara and Gula of Umma” (Yuhong 2008: 30), and mvn 15 877 obv. 4–rev. 2. See Chapter 4. See also Tsouparopoulou 2020: 18.
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offerings to dogs are only attested in the Ur iii period, from the 42nd year of Šulgi up until the 6th year of Šu-Sîn, after which it seems to have been discontinued.103 The only other evidence for the practice of keeping dogs on temple grounds is one reference to a temple called e₂-ur-gi₇-ra, “House of the Dog”, that was built for Ninisina by Enlil-bāni, probably at Isin (where Gula at that time was not worshiped yet) and that based on its name often is interpreted as a “sacred dog house”.104 To this can be added the dog burials at the Isin temple dating to the early 1st millennium b.c.e., although these burials leave it undecided whether dogs were kept at the temple or only buried.105 These Ur iii offerings are the first evidence for the connection between the dogs and Gula,106 and there is no other evidence that at this point, the dog was Gula’s healing symbol or that she received votive offerings in the shape of dogs.107 It has been postulated that the temple of Gula (and other healing goddesses) were healing sites where asûs practiced and dogs were employed for healing rituals,108 but as discussed in paragraph 3.2.1.3, there is no reason to assume this. The association between dogs and Gula, as well as Ninisina, more likely can be explained through the fact that the dog represented the goddesses’ characters as takers and givers of life. Therefore, as part of appeasing the goddesses, dogs needed to be provided for and treated properly.109 2.3.2 Association with Other Healing Goddesses Besides the involvement of asûs in their cult, another shared aspect of Gula, Ninisina and Nintinuga, is the fact that they had a similar entourage. In two offering lists from Ur iii Ur, Gula is mentioned with Damu and Gunura.110 These deities are also mentioned with Ninisina as deities of Isin, and in this role they
103 104
105 106 107
108 109 110
References to dog offerings without the mentioning of Gula go up till Ibbi-Sîn year 2, Tsouparopoulou 2020: 21–23 Table 1. George (1993a: 156) stated that is was probably a “sacred dog kennel”. Livingstone (1988: 58–59) argued that the temple must have been more than simply a dog house or kennel, for the dogs played an important cultic role. See paragraph 3.2.1.3. See also Tsouparopoulou 2020. Mallowan 1986: 150; Göhde 2002: 161–162 (although the latter also proposes that, based on the Ur iii dog offerings related to the Gula temple, the process of the dog becoming Gula’s attribute may already have been taken place in the Ur iii period). Charpin 2011b; 2017; Tsouparopoulou 2020. This will be discussed in paragraph 3.2.1.3. tcl 2 5482 ii 1–5 and auct 2 97 rev. 5–8, Sallaberger 1993: 1 154 n. 737; Richter 2004: 180– 181, 466; she also received textiles together with Damu in uet 3 736 rev. 11 (Neumann 2003: 54); see paragraph 2.1.
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are do not belong to Gula.111 Damu and Gunura are also associated with Nintinuga in three Ur iii documents, but then in Nippur.112 Damu and Gunura cannot be linked to one specific cult center, and it cannot be determined to whose circle they originally belonged.113 Perhaps they were not dependent on any of the goddesses, but were manifestations of healing in their own right, which caused them to be associated with the healing goddesses. This is confirmed by Old Babylonian incantations that show that Gunura and Damu represented an area of healing complementary to that of Gula and other healing goddesses.114 The healing goddesses remained their own personas and cult centers, but traveled and visited each other: for instance, Ninisina and Nintinuga visited each other in Isin and Nippur.115 Also Gula traveled to Nippur and went to the royal palace, where she received royal offerings.116 During these journeys she took on the name “Gula of Umma” or “Ninisina of Umma”.117 The latter is curious, as Umma is a city where Ninisina never occurs.118 A deity called Gula was not part of the regular cult at Nippur and was besides the journeys never mentioned there; also Ninisina was not prominent at Nippur, but she had been known there at least since the Old Akkadian period.119 The by-name “Ninisina of Umma” should therefore probably be understood as a reference to Gula’s healing character that is similar to Ninisina’s, who was known as a healing goddess in Nippur. The fact that she is not called “Nintinuga of Umma”, after the healing goddess local to Nippur, may have to do with the fact that Gula and 111 112 113
114 115 116
117
118 119
sat 3 1277 lines 1–9 (Ninisina, Damu, Gunura and Šumaḫ as deities from Isin), with Gula in line 14 (Richter 2004: 179 n. 794; Paoletti 2012: 230–231). See below. mvn 2 154 iv 17′–19′, pdt 2 1173 iii 16–22, and pdt 2 1224 obv. 1–5, Sallaberger 1993: 1 100; Richter 2004: 180. Richter 2004: 180–181 (note that he states here that there is not enough evidence to conclude that these deities originally belonged to Ninisina’s circle, but then assumes on page 209 that Damu probably was from Isin, although evidence only goes back to the Ur iii period). See Chapter 4. For Gunura and Damu, see Ebeling 1934; Römer 1969: 282–283; Edzard 1971; Sallaberger 1993: 102; Richter 2004: 111, 122, 180–181, 208–211. Sallaberger 1993: 1 154; Paoletti 2012: 253–254; see Chapter 4. mvn 15 118: 6–7; cusas 3 574; auct 1 969; see Sallaberger 1993: 1 125–126, 153–154, 272–273; 2 Table 99/99b; Such-Gutiérrez 2003: 1 330; Paoletti 2012: 255–256, 346, 378–379. See also uti 3 1843 and mvn 5 125: 2, in which Gula is called Ninisina of Umma (Sallaberger 1993: 1 154; Richter 2004: 112); and sat 2 956 (M.E. Cohen 2015: 181). Asûs were involved in these offerings, see below. Gula of Umma in the royal treasury archive of Puzriš-Dagan (Sallaberger 1993: 1 153–154; Such-Gutiérrez 2003: 1 247; Paoletti 2012); Ninisina of Umma in the livestock archive of Puzriš-Dagan, Sallaberger 1993: 1 153; 2 87 [Table 50]; Richter 2004: 112. Sallaberger 1993: 1 153–155; Such-Gutiérrez 2003: 1 247, 354. Richter 2004: 112–113; Such-Gutiérrez 2003: 1 353; see also paragraph 4.2.
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Ninisina’s personas may have been more similar, perhaps through the fact that Nintinuga’s healing role may have been less prominent.120 Because the journeys were at irregular intervals and were not connected to the regular festivals, it has been suggested that Gula’s healing character was the reason for the visits to Nippur. They may have only been undertaken in case Gula was needed to provide divine support in healing, childbirth, or other life events of the kings.121 2.3.3 Gula and Childbirth Although her role in illness and healing is not explicitly stated, it is certain that Gula was invoked in the context of health, conception, and childbirth. Gula received a lot of attention from the Ur iii royal family, in particular Šu-Sîn, as the kings made direct votive offerings for their family or in relation to life events, such as having a child, coronation, and death. For instance, the statue of Šu-Sîn was introduced into the temples of Šara and Gula at Umma in a ceremony related to his death and the subsequent coronation of Ibbi-Sîn.122 In sat 3 1277, Šu-Sîn, his mother Abī-šimtī and his wife Kubātum dedicated a bronze and copper ba-an-du₈-du₈ bucket and a ma-sa₂-ab basket to Gula as gift for the conception and/or birth of Šu-Sîn’s child.123 These gifts fit her cleansing role which also is reflected in Old Babylonian incantations,124 but may also have played a role in the birth process and (ritually?) cleansing newborn babies. Her involvement with midwifery is also clear from the one Ur iii incantation that mentions Gula. As stated, Gula is barely detectable in healing contexts in the 3rd millennium b.c.e., and this includes incantations. There is no such thing as an “incantation of Gula” yet in the Ur iii textual record, unlike, for instance, Ningirima, who from the Early Dynastic period on was prominent in incantations that are called “incantation of Ningirima”.125 Such a category could however have existed in oral tradition. The incantation in which Gula appears is um 29-15-367, which concerns complications during childbirth framed by a dialogue between Enki and Asalluḫi: 120 121 122 123 124 125
See Chapter 4.4. Sallaberger 1993: 1 153; Paoletti 2012: 250–251, 255, 263, 346. tcbi 2/2 1 rev. iii 5. Weiershäuser 2008: 144–145, 157–158; Widell 2011; Paoletti 2012: 255; Böck 2014: 31; 2015a: 330. See paragraph 3.1. Already in the Sargonic period we see the šiptu ul yattūn (“the incantation is not mine”) formula, in which the reciter acknowledges that he is channeling not his spell, but one given to him by a deity (šipat Ningirima); see for instance Westenholz 1975: no. 7 iv 5–9; see also Cunningham 1997: 57 no. 49. For references to (ka+)ud-dug₄-ga, “incantation speech”, of
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d⸢gu-la⸣ agrig zi [šu]-dim₄-ma-ke₄ gi-⸢dur⸣ kud-ra₂-a-ni nam ḫe₂-em-mi-ib₂-tar-[re] May Gula, the just administrator with the meticulous hands, once she has cut the umbilical cord,126 determine the (baby’s) destiny127 Gula cuts the umbilical cord of a newborn baby and brings about the caesura upon which a foetus depending on its mother develops into an “independent” human being with an individual destiny; the destiny which at that very moment is determined by the gods.128 Cutting the cord is reminiscent of the knife that in the 1st millennium b.c.e. becomes such a characteristic element of her.129 The epithet agrig šu-dim₄-ma could also refer to a health care role. The term agrig refers to the leader of a household community and is commonly translated as “steward”,130 and šu-dim₄-ma, literally “hand of checking; approaching”, often occurs in connection with this occupation. Šu-dim₄-ma may be a reference to careful bookkeeping, or to some kind of loyalty and prudence.131 Fur-
126
127 128 129 130
131
Ningirima in pre-Sargonic closing formulae, see Krebernik 1984c: 208–210; Cunningham 1997: 16, 36–37 no. 16 iv 2–3, 38–39 no. 23 ix 2–3. For a general assessment of this formula, see Lenzi 2010. The translation of gi-⸢dur⸣ kud-ra₂-a-ni as “cutting the umbilical cord” is not uncontested since gien₃-dur (Akkadian abunnatu) is the proper writing for umbilical cord. The translation “[I am experienced in] cutting the umbilical cord” for gi-dur-kud-da in a parallel passage in the hymn Nungal A was proposed by Jacobsen (1963: 475 n. 6). This translation was rejected by van Dijk (apud Römer 1969: 296), who translates gi-dur as a reed tie of some sort used in the pottery process; note, however, van Dijk’s translation of um 29-15367: 49 as “coupant avec le roseau le cordon ombilical”, in which he clearly accepts the notion that the reed tie or band is used to cut the umbilical cord (van Dijk 1975: 61 n. 24). See also Civil 1987: 28. The context of the attestations of gi-dur kud support the meaning “to cut the umbilical cord”, especially um 29-15-367 and Ninisina A (gi-dur-kud-de₃, line 75) where it appears in the context of childbirth (see chapter 4). For other attestations of gidur-kud, see for instance Enki and the Worldorder 396 and Nungal A 72 (Sjöberg 1972: 43). um 29-15-367: 49–50, see Van Dijk 1975: 54–61; Römer 1987: 204; see also Cunningham 1997: 69–75, no. 62. vs 17 33: 26–27 (Van Dijk 1975: 62–65) is an Old Babylonian variant. Stol 2000: 63, 143; Laribi-Glaudel 2014: 225. See paragraph 8.3.3. Ninisina (e.g. ct 23 2), Nintinuga (Letter-Prayer of Inanaka to Nintinuga; A Dog for Nintinuga [Kleinerman 2011b: 176]), Šumaḫ (Muššuʾu 5/a line 6; Böck 2007: 185) and Ninkarrak (4 R 56 ii 15) also bore this office in later periods, as agrigs (or leaders of a household) of the Ekur and Ešarra, which places them in Enlil’s circle. Agrig šu-dim₄-ma occurs in proverbs (Proverbs Collection 3: 121; Alster 1997: 76–112, 376– 395; Veldhuis 2000; etcsl 6.1.3; Proverbs Collection 7: 24; Alster 1996: 17–20; Alster 1997:
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thermore, this epithet could be approached from another perspective: Gula’s soft and cooling hands, a later characteristic of Gula. These hands that check (dim₄ means “to check, approach”), and quite freely translated, are “meticulous”, could be those experienced hands who check a patient’s body. Hands and touch played an important role in the practice of asûs.132 Perhaps it also refers to midwifery traits, namely feeling the position and size of the baby and labor’s progress, which would suit her act of cutting the umbilical cord.133 Gula’s new position as the one determining the fate (nam tar) of a human being, which is normally done by Enlil, could express the introduction of Gula to the hegemonic and theistic domain. It also brings her close to Enlil, which is also indicated by her journeys to Nippur during this time. However, she still maintained her domestic/folk healing practices through her involvement in childbirth, and perhaps manual healing or the practice of asûs. It stands out that there are so few textual references to Gula in a healing role. Perhaps she was revered more prominently in domestic healing (and childbirth) practices, which did not leave its traces in the cuneiform record. In the Ur iii period she seems to have only just begun to play a role in hegemonic circles, and was therefore not yet incorporated in the incantations that are part of the hegemonic, theistic domain. The involvement of asûs with her cult is remarkable and could be the first evidence of her being significant to this occupation, perhaps as a patron deity of asûs in general.
132 133
155–164, 412–413; etcsl 6.1.7). It is translated “loyal steward” by etcsl. In the message of Lu-Dingira to his mother (Çığ and Kramer 1976; Cooper 1971: 157–162; Ug 5 no. 169; etcsl 5.5.1), Lu-Dingira describes her virtues, among which is šu dim₄-ma-am₃ (line 18), translated by etcsl as “she is energetic”. On dim₄ (Akkadian sanāqu), “to check”, see Römer 1987: 207; cad s: 133; Wiggermann 2008: 224–225 (seal of a ša₃-tam šu-dim₄-⸢ma⸣). Agrig is also an epithet of Nisaba, Nungal and Ninimma, who according to Van Dijk (1975: 61) represent the agricultural products that were distributed by their priests, who needed to be agrig zi [šu]-dim₄-ma, “righteous, prudent stewards”. See further Pomponio 1986a: 16. See paragraphs 6.1 and 8.3.1. Van Dijk (1975: 61) states that Gula was not a “mother goddess” or midwife, but only assisted in childbirth, referring to Jacobsen 1973a: 290 n. 59.
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Gula in the 2nd and 1st Millennia b.c.e. 3.1
Gula in the Old Babylonian Period
3.1.1 Gula’s Cult Centers in the Old Babylonian Period In the Old Babylonian period, Gula’s cult spread and she was newly introduced to Nippur, Sippar, Larsa, and Isin. The association with other healing goddesses becomes more apparent over the course of the Old Babylonian period: Gula became an epithet for Ninisina, and, at Sippar, the processes of interchangeability developed for Gula and Ninisina as well as Gula and Ninkarrak. Gula nevertheless remained an independent goddess without a designated cult center or spousal relationship that tied her to one place exclusively: she was hardly associated with Ninurta, and barely present at Nippur, and also had little royal significance. This reinforces the assumption that she was worshiped by the common people for her healing qualities. Of her old cult centers Ur, Umma, and Uruk, her cult only continued to be detectable at one of them, namely Ur, but evidence is scarce.1 She disappeared from Uruk, where she may have made way for Ninisina, who was introduced here by the Isin kings.2 Gula does not occur in Old Assyrian sources. 3.1.1.1 Nippur At Nippur, there was a cult of Gula, but the evidence is in the words of Richter (2004: 112), “außergewöhnlich spärlich”. Gula had a shrine at Nippur at this 1 According to Richter (2004: 465–466), her name appears in in three judicial texts (Charpin 1980a: nos. 5, 25 and 88) and four administrative texts, some of which mention a shrine of hers, an e₂ dgu-la (TSifr 89, uet 5 311: 2 [Leemans 1955: 119; Van de Mieroop 1992: 277]; uet 5 771: 33 [Charpin 1986: 246]; uet 5 592 [Kraus 1955: 517 n. 7]—for the latter three, see also Renger 1967a: 156–157). See also Charpin 1986: 253–254, 260 for prebends and prebendaries related to Gula. Richter (2004: 466) mentions that an inscription by probably Warad-Sîn found at Ur (uet 8 63, rime 4.2.13.2: 3) records the building of a temple to Ninisina. Outside this Warad-Sîn inscription, Ninisina was not attested at Ur, and Richter (2004: 266) suggests that Warad-Sîn is the one who introduced her there. He also brings up the possibility that this Ninisina temple was the same as the Gula temple, but he concludes that the lack of evidence and difficulties dating the texts leave it unclear if Gula and Ninisina were associated at Ur, and if so, from when on. As mentioned in paragraph 2.2.2, Abu had a shrine at Ur, and Gu₂la₂ is never mentioned here. Ninkarrak occurs only in Ur personal names (Leemans 1952: 116; Richter 2004: 465–466, referring to the name Puzur-Ninkarrak in uet 5 671: 5); see below. 2 Richter 2004: 315; see also Chapter 4.2.
© Irene Sibbing-Plantholt, 2022 | doi:10.1163/9789004512412_004
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time.3 In offering lists, she was grouped with Pabilsag and Dumuzi, sometimes also with Nintinuga.4 This link between Gula and Pabilsag is probably based on the fact that the latter, although not having clear healing qualities himself,5 moved in the circle of healing goddesses; he was the spouse of Ninisina at Isin, but at Nippur he was associated with multiple deities.6 A suggested connection between Pabilsag and Ninurta is not strong,7 and this would also not bring Pabilsag closer to Gula, because she was not clearly associated with Ninurta until the Middle Babylonian period.8 Gula seemed to have remained spouseless, a divine power in her own right. Although royal interest was expressed in other healing deities, Gula was hardly ever mentioned in a royal context, something that would first change in the Middle Babylonian period.9 The one royal hymn she is mentioned in is 3 pbs 12/1 53: 3 mentions offices (nam-gudu₄ and nam-ugula) of a shrine of Gula (Kraus 1951: 86; Richter 2004: 112, 115). Note that Richter (2004: 112–113) puts forward cbs 7111 and 7075 as evidence for Gula at Nippur, but these mention Gu₂-la₂, not Gula, see paragraph 2.1. Gibson, Hansen and Zettler (2001: 558) stated that a small dog figurine or pendant was found in an Old Babylonian level of a temple in the wa section of the tell (12 N 749, oic 23: 11, 31, fig. 16: 3). The dog is not inscribed. This temple more likely belonged to Ninurta than Gula (see paragraph 3.2.1.1), and since there is no clear connection between Gula at this time, but Ninurta was on occasion the spouse of Ninisina, it is possible that this dog was meant for her, a goddess who also certainly was associated with dogs at this time. It is also possible that this single dog has nothing to do with the healing goddesses, but simply fulfills an apotropaic purpose; for this, see also paragraph 3.2.2. 4 um 29-13-375: 14′; um 29-13-398: 46; um 29-13-515: 11′; um 29-13-819: 11; Ni 2439 rev. 11; Ni. 2484 rev. 3 (Kraus 1951: 86; Sigrist 1980: 108–109; Richter 2004: 112, 114–115). 5 See paragraph 4.2.1.1. 6 Richter 2004: 114–116. Richter (2004: 116, 121–122) makes the suggestion that Pabilsag is conceptualized as the husband of Enanun, a supposed Nippurian deity about very little is known and who in the 1st millennium b.c.e. is taken up in the circle of healing deities, based on an=Anum 5 124–124a (Litke 1998: 179), Enanun is described as the ama-arḫuš/ummu rēmi of Gula (amaarḫuš dgu-la-[ke₄] = um-mi re-mi dmin). The Middle Assyrian exemplar of an=Anum K 4349d: 8′–9′ has den-a₂-nun: ama [ ] iš-ta-ra-niš ša-su-u um-mi ri-mi ša dgu-la: ama [ ]. Does Ištarāniš šasû mean “to call out like Ištarān”, the snake god from Dēr? Another name for him is Anu rabû, written an-gal but also an-gu-la, which can also be read as dgu-la. Note that Gula is connected to Dēr though Bēlet-balāṭi, see paragraph 3.3.1.2 Ištarān himself was associated with healing, as was the case with Damu and Ninazu; see for instance the name Ištarān-asû (Jacobsen 1937–1939: 364–265, 4). Note however that in Proto-Diri lines 553–556, ka(gu₃)-anne-si = iš-ta-ra-an. Gu₃ an.e si is “voice filling the heavens”, perhaps something like to “shout out”. For a discussion of kurku = gu₃-an-ne-si, see Bergmann 1964; Sjöberg 1965: 65–70. For for an-gu-la, see Hinz 1965. 7 Richter 2004: 116; see paragraph 4.2. 8 Also during the 1st Sealand dynasty, her cult was marginal and she was never associated with Ninurta (Boivin 2018: 214, 231). 9 In the Old Babylonian period royal interest was expressed in Bau, Ninisina and Nintinuga,
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an exemplar of Išbi-Erra D found at Nippur, a hymn to Ninisina in which she is an epithet of Ninisina.10 She hardly plays a role in Nippur school and scholarly texts. She occurs in Nippur god lists;11 Gula can be recognized in god lists for the first time in the Old Babylonian period.12 She furthermore is part of a proverb from Nippur that mentions personal devotion to the goddess: mu dgu-la nin-ga2-še3! šub-ba gu₁₀-e igi-ga2 ki-gub-ba nu-tuku-a I prostrate myself for the sake of Gula, my lady, but in my own eyes I don’t have a place to stand.13 This fits well with the notion that her significance came forth from her healing powers in the domestic domain and that she was of importance in private cult. From this perspective, one would expect Gula to have a prominent role in the onomasticon, but remarkably, her name cannot often be found in Old Babylonian personal names.14 3.1.1.2 Larsa and Isin Gula was newly introduced to Larsa and Isin after Hammurabi conquered these cities.15 At Larsa she became a significant deity based on the size of her temple16 and here the dog became an important part of her cult. Besides the abovementioned offerings in the Ur iii period in which dogs received carcasses
10 11
12 13 14 15 16
who appear in royal hymns, and in Ninkarrak. As mentioned before, Ninkarrak is mentioned in royal contexts in year names from the early Old Babylonian period on, and she occurs in the epilogue of the Laws of Hammurabi. See the respective sections on these four goddesses for a detailed description. See next paragraph. Nippur God List (slt 122–124 ii 3, in the sequence Bau / Ninisina / Gula / Ninkarrak that follows a section on Ninurta and his alter egos, namely Ningirsu, Utaʾulu, Zababa, Lagamal and Pabilsag) and the Non-standard Old Babylonian Nippur God List um 29-13-84 column ii, a school exercise (Peterson 2009: 99–100, plate xxvi, mentioned together with Suen, Utu, Zababa [a spouse of Bau in later periods, see below], and Ninmaš). She further is mentioned in the Old Babylonian Weidner God List (as Gulazida, “the true Gula”), but is omitted in an=Anum forerunner tcl 15 10, see paragraph 2.2.3. cbs 7968: 1–2 (Alster 1997: 303; see etcsl 6.2.1). See for instance Pomponio 1978. For the name Gula-balāssu in Old Babylonian practice letters, see paragraph 3.1.2. Richter 2004: 193. Richter (2004: 361) states that although there are not many sources for a cult of Gula in Larsa, her temple seems to have been of importance, as several gudu₄ priests were known to work there at the same time (according to Renger [1969: 160], this indicates a signifi-
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together with Gula there is no clear indication that dogs were associated with Gula before the Old Babylonian period. Dogs did not appear in iconography as her divine attribute nor did she receive dog-shaped votives until the Old Babylonian period.17 At Larsa the emergence of the dog as her symbol becomes clear from a legal document that mentions a divine dog of Gula (dka-al-bu-um ša d⸢gu-la⸣), which indicates that a dog was displayed as an emblem in her temple, by which oaths could be sworn.18 Gula’s first appearance at Isin during Hammurabi’s reign may have to do with her association with healing goddess Ninisina, the patron goddess of Isin. In the Ur iii periods they already shared some traits and Gula was called “Ninisina of Umma”, indicating that the goddesses were comparable, probably because both were perceived as healing goddesses. The association between the goddesses became stronger in the Old Babylonian period, when Gula became the epithet for Ninisina according to two hymns. In the above-mentioned hymn Išbi-Erra D,19 as well as another Old Babylonian hymn dedicated to Ninisina, Gula occurs in the body of the composition as an epithet for Ninisina.20 As
17
18
19
20
cant size and importance of a temple). In texts from Kutalla (Tell Sifr), a town in southern Mesopotamia near Larsa, rites for the temple of Gula (mar-za e₂ dgu-la) are mentioned (Jean 1931 nos. 5 3: 13; 7 25: 6; 88 7: 11, 18; Renger 1967a: 144). Mallowan 1986: 150; Göhde 2002: 161. See also Seidl 2017: 322–323, who states that the dog on Kassite kudurrus appears in an individual, apotropaic role and not necessarily as the symbol of a deity. See also paragraph 3.2.2. yos 8 76: 2; Fuhr 1977: 137; Avalos 1995: 112; Richter 2004: 360–361. For the dog emblem of Gula, see also bin 7 176: 7 (Frankena 1971: 696; Livingstone 1988: 58 n. 15; see also Richter 2004: 193). and the Old Babylonian letter AbB 6 181: 17′, which reveals that oaths were sworn by the divine dog of Gula (dur-gi₇ ša dgu-la) in Suqûm/Zukum (see also Heimpel 1975: 496; Richter 2004: 193 n. 850). Note that Tsouparopoulou (2020: 17) erroneously states that “Gula was sometimes called dUr-gi₇ “Dog””. Note that this composition, edited by Römer 1965: 77–82 and etcsl 2.5.1.4, is the only other edition has only one exemplar, cbs 12604 (stvc 61), a short and poorly preserved fragment of 14 lines. The first lines of the hymn are fragmentary, and in line 8, the first legible name or epithet of the addressed goddess can be found, namely Gula: munus muni ni2 il2-il2 dgu-la, “the lady whose name is exalted, Gula”. However, in line 10 we read kug dnin-isin₂si-na nin dgu-la, “holy Ninisina, lady Gula”, who resides in the Egalmaḫ in Isin. See also the last three lines of the composition, lines 12–14: kug dnin-isin2si-na nin dgu-la dnin-isin2si-na e2-gal-maḫ an-ne2 ki us2-[sa] diš-bi-er3-⟨ra⟩ ki ag2 šag4-za-ra za-e ḫul2-ḫul2mu-di-ni-ib, “Holy Ninisina, lady Gula! Ninisina, in the Egalmaḫ, founded by An, bring joy to Išbi-Erra, the beloved of your heart!” (see etcsl 2.5.1.4). Ashm. 1911.235 (bl 196) and parallel Ni. 9672 (iset 2 3), edited by Zolyomi (2010: 414–419, Segment A). The hymn is dedicated to Ninisina (composite lines 1, 10, 25), but the name Gula is used for the goddess in composite line 19.
gula in the 2nd and 1st millennia b.c.e.
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mentioned above, Gula received offerings with Ninisina’s spouse Pabilsag at Nippur, which could also reflect their association.21 This ties in with the fact that Gula occurs as a gloss for Gašan-ašte in the Ur Lament.22 Gašan-ašte, probably the goddess of Larak and Pabilsag’s original wife, became equated with Ninisina—Gula is otherwise never called this name. At Sippar, which will be discussed below, the name Gula and Ninisina were interchangeable (just like Gula and Ninkarrak), although Ninisina had no cult there. Furthermore they shared their connection to Damu, who represented his own domain of healing.23 It thus can be established that Gula and Ninisina were strongly associated with each other; however, there is hardly evidence for this at Isin. Gula is not directly mentioned in the context of Ninisina, and was not worshipped at the temple at Isin identified as the Egalmaḫ, the temple of Ninisina in the Old Babylonian period. Gula seems to have been worshiped next to Ninisina at Isin, the city goddess who represents healing and who obtains a more official position; for instance, Ninisina is important to the Isin kings who built her shrines, royal inscriptions and literary works, but Ninisina does not occur often or at all in personal names at Isin.24 Gula on the other hand was the healing goddess more involved with daily life matters. She was invoked in personal names at Isin at the end of the reign of Hammurabi and during the late Old Babylonian period,25 and playes a role in curses and oaths. Whereas in earlier periods oaths were sworn by the life of the king, after Isin was conquered by Babylon, oaths were also sworn by Marduk and Gula, and she could appear as a witness.26 Sometimes these oaths were sworn to her and Šamaš, with whom she
21 22
23
24 25 26
See also seal canes 360, mentioned in paragraph 3.1.2. The edition on etcsl 2.2.2 gives the following transliteration of line number 18A (only added to manuscript 1, tcl 16 40 [ao 6446] i 19): ga-ša-an-X-[…] e₂-ba la-ra-agki-a muš₃ mi-ni-in-ga amaš-a-na lil₂-e, “gašan-X has abandoned the house Larak and has let the breezes haunt her sheepfold” (Jacobsen 1987: 449 omits line because it is “missing in most manuscripts and is hardly original”). Krebernik (2003: 164) proposes the reading gašan-gu!⸢la⸣-[aš-te], with gu-la as a gloss, a reading that is supported by the traces on the copy by de Genouillac. They occur together in greeting formulas in letters (e.g. AbB 5 277: 4; AbB 11 23: 4; AbB 14 204: 5, 206: 5) and at Sippar, a šangû-priest of Gula is called Awēl-Damu (be 6/1 22: 22; Harris 1975: 184); for their connection in incantations, see Chapters 3 and 8. For Damu and Ninisina, see paragraph 4.2. For the observation that Ninisina is poorly attested in personal names, see Richter 2004: 266–274; for the sources in which Ninisina occurs, see paragraph 4.2. Richter 2004: 193, 266–274; Crisostomo 2018: 110–112. Also Ninkarrak occurs in personal names at Isin. bin 7 183: 17; bin 7 186: 18; bin 7 187: 5 (Kraus 1951: 60; Richter 2004: 193); Crisostomo 2018: 105–107 text 2:16 and 3: 19 [with Marduk and Hammurabi].
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also occurs often in the greeting formulae of letters.27 Other evidence for Gula at Isin is a reference to Gula taking part in festival at Isin,28 and offerings made to her.29 Her name is not preserved in the Isin God List, but the list is very broken.30 It can be concluded that Gula could be used as a by-name for Ninisina. Additionally, the two goddesses seem to have existed beside each other with their different roles and characteristics, and were invoked in different contexts. 3.1.1.3 Sippar After the reign of Hammurabi, Gula’s cult was also introduced at Sippar, as several contracts mention šangû-priests of Gula,31 but her importance did not increase until the late Old Babylonian period. At this time, her šangû-priests were more regularly represented at Sippar, and a gate, a street, and a (part of the) city were named after Gula or her temple.32 It is not certain where the Old Babylonian temple of Gula at Sippar was located, nor how it was called, as the later name Eulla stems from 1st millennium b.c.e. sources.33 It is possible that it refers to the same structure as the shrine of Ninkarrak. Ninkarrak had a cult at Sippar since the reign of Buntaḫtun-ila, and she became associated at this site, probably due to Ninkarrak’s new role in healing in the Old Babylonian period.34 This can be recognized in the title of Gula’s šangû-priest Šupîša,
27
28
29 30 31 32
33 34
bin 7 196: 9; bin 7 200: 10; ra 73: 73 [ao 10329: 13]; Kraus 1951: 60; Richter 2004: 193. All these texts date to the reign of Samsu-iluna. For greeting formulae, see AbB 8 85; AbB 9 231; AbB 11 138; AbB 11 154; AbB 11 159; AbB 13 138; AbB 14 203; ib 543a and ib 550a (Wilcke 2018: 89–90 nos. 377 and 388); perhaps also ib 821 (Wilcke 2018: 96 no. 536). See further also the incantation to Utu cbs 563 in which Gula appears (see below). Old Babylonian letter AbB 14 204: 25, which mentions Gula in its greeting formula, refers to Gula celebrating the festival of Isin (nam-ra-at i₃-si-inki) in the land (see Veenhof 2005: 212). ib 1283: 2 (Wilcke 2018: 95 no. 510) mentions an offering to Gula. For the Isin God List, see Wilcke 2018: 67 nos. 146 and 147. Harris 1975: 184–185; Renger 1967b: 163; Myers 2002: 133 n. 537; Pientka 1998: 189–190. Pientka 1998: 189–190. For the sila dgu-la (post Samsu-iluna), see mhet ii/5 633: 18; Myers 2002: 133. An oath is sworn by the gate of Gula (ka₂ dgu-la), Dombradi 1996: Si. 120: 9 (E), 273. In addition, an Old Babyonian letter describes that barley was taken from Āl-Gula (uru-dgu-laki) to Sippar (AbB 12 31 obv. 5, rev. 3′, 9′, Pientka 1998: 190); Westenholz 2010: 385 suggests that this term refers to the district of Ninkarrak mentioned in mhet ii/2 249: 2 and AbB 11 98: 13. Gula may also be depicted with dogs on two seal impressions from Sippar and tell ed-Dēr (Göhde 2002), see paragraph 3.1.2. Myers 2002: 132–134; for this temple; see also George 1993a: 155 no. 1167 for the Eulla being built in the Neo-Babylonian period, as well as paragraph 4.1. See paragraph 4.1.
gula in the 2nd and 1st millennia b.c.e.
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who was also called šangû-priest of Ninkarrak according to documents dating to the reign of Ammi-ditana.35 The goddesses may even have become directly exchangeable at Sippar, judging from the personal name of a man called PuzurNinkarrak, son of Sîn-erībam, in one tablet, who may be called Puzur-Gula, son of Sîn-erībam, in another document from the same year.36 If this is indeed the same man, the theophoric element of the name can consequently be written in differing ways. How the name was pronounced, namely as Puzur-Ninkarrak, Puzur-Gula, or even something else, remains unknown. Although Ninisina was not worshiped at Sippar, she can be added to this local interchangeability: a field is called that of Ninkarrak in a document and that of Ninisina on its envelope.37 Moreover, the father of šangû-priest Šupîša, Iddin-Šamaš, was called a šangû-priest of Ninisina as well as of Gula.38 The name of Šupîša’s brother Warad-Egalmaḫ, also called šangû-priest of Gula, makes it likely that the family used to serve at the Egalmaḫ, the temple of Ninisina in Isin.39 The fact that none of the three goddesses was native at Sippar but at this point all of them had some role in illness and healing, may have caused that their characters were equated at this center. Perhaps Gula and Ninisina became cognomina for Ninkarrak, who seemingly had been known at Sippar the longest, but they also may have been worshiped alongside of each other— similar to how Gula had become a by-name of the city goddess Ninisina as well as a new deity at Isin. The association between Gula, Ninkarrak and Ninisina is also clear from the Old Babylonian versions of The Great Revolt against Narām-Sîn: the exerpt from Mari has the Esabad as the temple of Ninkarrak (which is Ninisina’s temple in or around Isin), and in another exemplar, the goddess is called Gula.40 This may reflect the geographical distinction between Gula and Ninkarrak, as the latter was attested in Mari, whereas Gula was not.
35
36 37 38 39 40
Šupîša was šangû-priest of Gula in be 6/1 87: 14; šangû-priest of Ninkarrak in Di. 1272: 13, dating to Ammi-ditana year 29 (Gasche and Dekiere 1991: 17; Colbow 2000: 36; see also Westenholz 2010: 385). bap 80: 13 and ct 45 23 rev. 6 (in both tablets, the man occurs as a witness); Kraus 1951: 65; Harris 1975: 152 with footnote 80; Westenholz 2010: 385–386. ct 47 65: 7 and ct 47 65a: 7′, see paragraph 4.1. ct 4 40c: 5 (šangû-priest of Gula) and was 3 617 (šangû-priest of Ninisina), Colbow 2000: 34–36. Colbow 2000: 36, 39. Westenholz 1997: 234–235 (no. 16a: 14); 242–243 (no. 16b: 25). Both these tablets cannot be dated more accurately (Westenholz 1997: 231, 239).
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3.1.2
Gula as asû and Different Healing Domains in the Old Babylonian Period Gula clearly occurs in healing contexts in Old Babylonian sources. General references to her being the one who provides life and health can be found in oaths and blessing formulae; see for instance a letter from Isin is addressed to “Šamaš-abī, whom Gula keeps alive”, ⸢a⸣-na dutu-a-bi ša dgu-la ⸢u₂⸣-[ba-la-ṭ]u₂šu.41 Also the personal name Gula-balāssu, “Gula is his life”, occurs in early Old Babylonian scribal practice letters.42 Such phrases with balāṭu in oaths, letters and personal names are however commonly used for a wide range of deities, and thus are no specific indication of her healing properties.43 More direct evidence for her being a healing goddess is the fact that she carried the title asû for the first time in the Old Babylonian period. cbs 563, an Old Babylonian exemplar of An Incantation to Utu,44 has a section not found on the other exemplars with one entry dedicated to Gula:45 [d]⸢utu⸣ za-[a-da nu-me-a] dgu-la nin a-zu-gal kur-kur-ra-ke₄ nam-lu₂ulu₃ ki-gul-⸢la⸣ ⸢x (x)⸣-a sila ka-gal nu-kin-a lu₂ nu-ub-uš₂-e lu₂ nu-ub-til₃e46
41 42 43 44 45 46
ib 821 obv. 1–2 (Wilcke 2018: 96 no. 536). Béranger 2019. See for instance cad b: 59. Alster 1991: 46 (text A); photo in Alster 1993: 267–272; see also Geller 1995: 102–109; Cunningham 1997 no. 148. The colophon is dated to Ammi-ṣaduqa year 1. Note that Alster (1991: 33) says that A omits this section, although it is in fact the only exemplar that contains it (correctly stated on pages 46 and 73). cbs 563 ii 9–10, composite line 55. The end of the line 9 is difficult to read because it is damaged and written on the edge of the tablet. Alster’s tentative reading is ki-gul ⸢ri?⸣e-a with ki-gul = šubtu, “dwelling place” (of the dead), and e-a for e₃-a, translating the sentence up to nu-kin-a as “Utu, without you, Gula, lady, the great physician of the lands, could not make the human beings leaving (?) their dwellings places search for the way to the great gate” (Alster 1991: 73). There are several problems with this interpretation. Based on collation it can be concluded that the the sign after gul can probably be identified as la, although the sign looks crammed and damaged. Before the sign A comes either one large sign that looks like ḫul (⸢ḫul⸣-a), or two signs, perhaps ⸢x gur⸣-a or ⸢x si⸣-a. A fitting interpretation would be nam-lu₂-ulu₃ ki-gul-⸢la⸣ nu-si-a, “(Gula) does not fill the Netherworld?! with mankind”, but the sign before si would not be a good nu. Moreover, ki-gul-la is the normal orthography for “destitute” or “homeless person” (which also appears in this meaning later in the text, in composite line 72, see Alster 1991: 48, 82), and for a place of the dead, which is written ki-gu-la. For ki-gu-la, “great place”, indicating a burial location, see Sallaberger 1993: 1 198 n. 940, 283. For the interpretation of ki-gu-la, see further Landsberger apud Gordon 1959: 477; Cohen 1977: 16. Ningišzida is lugal ki-gu-la; van Dijk 1960: 105–106; 1976: 132; Katz 2003: 181; see also Maeda 1993: 297. Alster (1991: 81) interprets sila
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Utu, without you, Gula, lady, the azugal of the lands, could not make mankind find the destitute?/burial place … the great gate path; she could not make the people die; she could not make the people live. Although the first line is difficult to understand, Gula’s healing role and power over life and death is unequivocally emphasized here. Two lines down, Ninmaḫ is mentioned in her role of cutting the umbilical cord and deciding the fate for mankind. This was Gula’s role in the Ur iii incantation mentioned above in um 29-15-367, and as well as in the Old Babylonian variant of this incantation, vs 17 33.47 As is the case in cbs 563, the midwifery role is given to another deity while Gula is the asû in cusas 32 25a (obv. 9–11), an Akkadian incantation against a stomach ache. Here Gula is the asût awīle, “female asû of mankind”,48 besides Damu as the bēl tākalātim, which can be translated as “lord of ‘pouches’ ”,49 and Dingirmaḫ, the bēlet rēmim, “mistress of the womb”. These deities seem to control different domains of healing, although these were not strictly bound to each deity; Gula could have midwifery traits, and both Dingirmaḫ and Damu could be called asû.50 Damu’s role as asû was often emphasized in the Old Babylonian period, especially when he is called the son of Ninisina. When acting as her healing agent, he bears the title asû or learns asûtu, “the art of healing”.51 On two occasions he heals in the name of Ninisina as the a-zu-gal of Enlil, giving the impression that he was perceived the healing aspect of the god Enlil.52 This is confirmed by the Nippur Lament, in which Damu, besides a-zu zi-gal₂-la-ka,
47 48 49 50 51 52
ka-gal as the “way to the great gate”, it being the road leading to the Netherworld (referring to Bottéro 1980: 32; Geller 1985: 36, lines 284–286; 100), as Gula could decide whether a sick man should live or die. Note that one would expect ka₂-gal. The scribe thus potentially misspelled the name of the Netherworld twice in one sentence. For the function of the negation in literary texts including this incantation, see Michalowski 1991. vs 17 33: 25–27 (Van Dijk 1975: 62–65); see paragraph 2.3.3. a-su₂-ut a-wi-le-e, cusas 32 25a obv. 11. For female asûs, see Chapter 6. Tākaltu is an internal organ involved in digestion, perhaps the stomach; see Stol 2006: 107–110. See paragraph 8.1. sem 74 rev. 3 (Peterson 2016: 43) and Ninisina A respectively; see Chapter 4.2. For asûtu, see chapter 6; for the relationship between Damu and Ninisina, see paragraph 4.2. Sîn-iddinam C obv? 2′ (dda-mu a-zu-gal de[n-lil₂-la₂-ke₄], Brisch 2007: 138–140) and the Letter-Prayer of Sîn-iddinam to Ninisina composite line 49; Hallo 1976: 220–221; Brisch 2007: 144–145. Of the three exemplars recording this line, only version ybc 4605 has a-zugal; Ashm. 1932.520 has a-zu (Brisch 2007: 147). In both these texts, he is considered the knower of life-giving plants and life-giving water; see also paragraph 6.1.
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“asû of the living”, also is the kindagal₂ of Enlil, a Sumerian term for “barber, hairdresser”,53 which also may have been a type of healer.54 Damu is further an a-zu(-gal) in the incantation cusas 32 11 v 6 (in which he is mentioned after Ninisina), in inscriptions on a seal,55 and in Old Babylonian personal names.56 He was also called the bēl balāṭi “lord of life”,57 perhaps referring to his ability to bring the sick back to life. As mentioned earlier, Damu was already associated with Gula in the Ur iii period—probably because of their healing qualities—, and this continued in the Old Babylonian period. They formed a male-female couple in letter formulae58 and incantations,59 and even had their own category of incantations, the šipat Gula u Damu, which continued into the 1st millennium b.c.e.60 Damu and Gula seem to have been paired because they fulfil
53
54 55 56
57 58 59
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Nippur Lament line 242; Tinney 1996: 114–115, 174; etcsl 2.2.4. Tinney (1996: 173) stated that Damu, who had strong ties to the Isin circle (see Richter 2004: 209–211) is the kindagal₂ of Nunamnir (Enlil) in this composition to strengthen the ties between the Isin and Nippur families. See Chapter 5. canes 560. For pbs 8/2 141, see the following footnote. Damu is also called a-zu-gal in the 1st millennium b.c.e. zipad incantation K 3179+ iii 35–37 (Ebeling 1953: 387). uet 5 493: 9, arn 22: 4 (see psd a/1: 207); Crisostomo 2018: 112–114 text 5: 21 and 6: 21; and probably pbs 8/2 141 (see Chapter 2 footnote 57). The other healing deity whose name is connected to asû in Old Babylonian personal names is Bau (Bau-asât, cusas 36 38: 15; 56: 1). Further the personal name Sîn-azu can be found in uet 5 494: 14 and cusas 36 147: 29; other personal names with azu and (male) deities are an-azu and lugal-azu, see psd a/1: 207. Šamaš is also called a-zu (gal) in Old Babylonian Utu B line 2: a-zu-⸢gal⸣ [a]-a saggig₂-ga. In SpBTU 3 67 iii 27–28 (bīt rimki), Utu is able “to heal through the hand of the asû” (šu a-zu x ti-la ina qa₂-ti a-si-i bu-ul-lu-ṭi). It is with him and Damu that Gula is associated in her first two attestations as an asû (the incantation to Utu cbs 563 and cusas 29 25a). bm 79938: 7 (Finkel 1999: 218–219 [text 2]). AbB 5 277: 4; AbB 11 23: 4; AbB 14 204: 5, 206: 5; see also Frankena 1971: 696; see also paragraph 3.1.1.2. They are mentioned in an Old Babylonian incantation in which divine pairs are invited to judge the patient’s case (cusas 32 59 ii 20′), together with the pairs Tišpak and (U)kulla(b) (ii 15′, see Chapter 2 footnote 77), and perhaps Zababa and Bau (d⸢x-ba₄⸣ u₃ dba-⸢u₂? ⸣, ii 17′), Ninurta and Nin-Nibru (ii 18′), Pabilsag and Nintinuga (ii 19′), and Ningišzida and Azimua (ii 21′). yos 11 5a: 1–8 (Veldhuis 1993b; Wasserman 2008); bm 79125: 8 (Finkel 1999: 215–218). In yos 11 5a, Damu casts the spell and Gula eradicates the worm (which is her “daughter” [dumu!-munus!], see also Panayotov 2017: 239–240); in bm 79125: 9–10, Gula speaks the incantation (to the performer, who then recites it) and Damu’s actions are not specified. For incantations of Gula and Damu in the late 2nd millennium b.c.e., see paragraph 3.2.3.3; for the 1st millennium b.c.e., see for instance bam 124 iv 24 // bam 128 iv 20′ (Böck 2007: 312); SpBTU 5 248 obv. 1–18 (Scurlock 2014: 684, 686, 688, 690); stt 252: 14
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complementary healing functions, just as is the case with Damu and Ninisina, although the latter have a relationship as mother and son.61 A last potential connection between an asû and Gula from the Old Babylonian period is the possible relationship between image and inscription of a seal on an administrative text of the Šamaš temple from Sippar.62 It bears a seal impression of Būr-nunu, son of Mašum, an azugallu (a-zu-gal), and the seal depicts a deity holding a scimitar—a staff with a double-headed lion that is typical for Ištar—accompanied by a dog with a crook over its head. Although she occurs rarely (or at least can rarely be identified) on Old Babylonian seals, this deity or just the dog with crook may represent Gula. The dog with crook are not exclusive to her,63 but her connection with dogs was clearly established in this period, also in iconography,64 and there are some Old Babylonian seals that support the idea that the dog with crook was a symbol for Gula. cco 1 S 523, an Elamite(?) seal belonging to a female servant of Gula (geme₂ ša dgula), depicts a deity, a dog, and a crook that belongs to either the deity or the
61 62
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(Reiner and Civil 1967: 191–192); bam 574 iv 30; bam 543 iii 49′ // bam 533: 46 // SpBTU 1 44: 60, as well as bam 537 rev. 8′ (see also bam 553 rev. 5′); bam 543 iv 38′, 56′; bam 510 ii 32′ // bam 513 ii 47′ // bam 514 ii 43′ (igi 1 95′, Geller and Panayotov 2020: 81, 83); bam 510 iii 4 // bam 513 iii 9 (igi 1 106′, Geller and Panayotov 2020: 86); bam 578 ii 49; and several incantations to calm down babies (Farber 1989: 42–43 §2 °42, 98–99 § 32 13; see also pages 159, 164, 166); see also Finkel 2000: 193–195 no. 37: 21. Note that Charpin (2017: 209) assumes that the Middle Babylonian personal name Šipatsa-balāṭu, “her incantation is life”, (pbs 2/2 53: 6; Hölscher 1996: 210), refers to Gula and her healing spells. Damu may originate in Girsu (Jacobsen 1970: 324) and may be a translation or relative of Ninazu. Jacobsen (1962: 190) thinks he is an aspect of Dumuzi because of his regenerative qualities. Kramer (1983: 75) suggested that they are associated because of their similar characteristics. The relationship between Gula and Damu as mother and son is not attested till much later, see an=Anum 5 165. For the relationship between Damu and Ninisina, see paragraph 4.2. cco 2 A 581; Porada and Lampl 1962: 2; vs 9 148, 149; Harris 1975: 273; Klengel-Brandt 1989: 319 no. 72; Braun-Holzinger 1996: 336; Göhde 2002: 166 Fig. 3. It is dated to the 39th year of Hammurabi. The dog and crook are also depicted with Amurru, Damkina, Ninsianna, Enlil and Nergal, see Braun-Holzinger 1996: 336–338; Collon 2009. For Gula and dogs, see e.g. Schroeder 1919; Heimpel 1975; Frankena 1971; Fuhr 1977; Mallowan 1986; Haussperger 1994; Göhde 2002; Ornan 2004; Herles 2006: 221–222; Groneberg 2000: 297–304; 2007a; Wasserman 2008; Bonatz 2009; Collon 2009; Charpin 2017: 46– 51; Tsouparopoulou 2020; see also the following paragraph. Göhde (2002) links two seal impressions from Sippar and tell ed-Dēr to Gula, one of a deity enthroned on the back of a seated dog (Göhde 2002: 166 Abb. 2), and one with an introductory scene, on the left of which a goddess with rod and ring seems to be depicted standing between two dogs (Göhde 2002: 168 Abb. 6). For dogs associated with Ninisina, see Chapter 4.2.
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dog.65 canes 36066 is a seal inscribed with the names Pabilsag and Gula, and contains an image of a dog with crook, as well as a winged lion demon67 holding a goat, a lion attacking a kusarikku and an ukaduḫḫû68 attacking a man on one knee.69 Damu may also be connected to the dog and crook, as the latter are depicted on canes 560, the above-mentioned seal that calls Damu the a-zu-gal of Enlil.70 3.1.3 Other Healing Settings Gula is mentioned in a few other Old Babylonian incantations. In yos 11 14, an incantation against maškadu, she is not called asû, but she handles knives used for surgery, also by (scholarly) asûs.71 The maškadu-disease is summoned to leave before these knives of Gula need to get involved.72 Her name is further legible in a fragmentary Akkadian incantation preserved on cusas 32 22,73 which has parallels to the incantations against simmū maʾdū found on ct 42 32 and lb 1000 (and later versions);74 these latter two mention Ninkarrak instead of Gula. Gula may also appear in uet 6/2 399, an Akkadian incantation or medical text in which the illness or the person’s behavior is compared to that of animals, such as a lion and wolf,75 a domestic theme that can be found in later 65
66 67 68 69 70
71 72
73 74 75
Braun-Holzinger 1996: 337 no. 1045. Collon (2009: § ii.2.2.1) further suggests that seal ib 699 (Hrouda 1977: 25, 81, Tf. 20: 37; Tf. 22: 37) may represent Gula with a dog with crook: the seal, found at Isin, depicts a dog with crook, a nude goddess, and symbols for Adad, Marduk and Nergal. Note further was 3 371, a seal that depicts a goddess with a flounced garment holding a crook, accompanied by a dog and crook, facing a worshiper (Groneberg 2000: 304). The seal owner is not a servant of a healing goddess, but of Enlil, so there is no correspondence between the seal’s inscription and image. Braun-Holzinger 1996: 337 no. 1046. Due to his wings associated with winds; see for instance Wiggermann 1994: 241. A winged lion with a gaping maw; see paragraph 4.1.2. See also Collon 2009 § ii.2.2.1. Note also Delaporte bn 150, a seal without inscription, where the dog with crook stands behind a man fighting an ukaduḫḫû. See also Brett 72, a seal depicting a dog with crook next to a goddess with a flounced garment. The owner of the latter seal is called servant of Lugal-Isin (dlugal-i₃-si-in-⸢na⸣⸢ki⸣), which could perhaps be Pabilsag as spouse of Ninisina. See paragraph 8.3.3. yos 11 14 rev. 5: la-a-ma ik-šu-du-ka ṣu₂-ur-ru na-ag-la-⸢bu [ša?] d⸣gu-la, “(illness, go away) before the ṣurru-knife (and) the naglabu-knife of Gula have reached you!”; see also Wasserman 2008: 81 n. 47; Böck 2014: 19. For these instruments and 1st millennium b.c.e. versions of this phrase, see paragraph 8.3.3. cusas 32 22 obv. i 5′ (dgu-la), see cusas 32 plates lxvi–lxvii. George 2016: 46; for ct 42 32 and lb 1000, see Geller and Wiggermann 2008; Böck 2007: 150–158. uet 6/2 399: 18 ([d]gu-la). It resembles a bilingual incantation found at Mari (ThureauDangin 1939: 10–12), which does not mention Gula.
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incantations of Gula or of Gula and Damu. In yos 11 5b (lines 9–14), an incantation of Gula concerning a sick child, she is mentioned with her dogs.76 This is yet another indication that the dog was Gula’s attribute by the Old Babylonian period.77 In some incantations Gula is associated with purification and cleansing, which is reminiscent of the gifts she received for the conception and/or birth of Šu-Sîn’s child.78 In yos 11 47, in which the temple of Gula is mentioned together with the temple of the purification goddess Kusu as part of a cleaning ritual with a nig₂-zi vessel.79 yos 11 49, perhaps an early Šurpu text, contains three Sumerian incantations concerning the nig₂-na/nignakku, “cultic censer”, of Gula.80
3.2
Gula in the 2nd Half of the 2nd Millennium b.c.e.
3.2.1 Gula’s Increased Significance in Babylonia During the 2nd half of the 2nd millennium b.c.e., Gula was prominently worshiped in Babylonia and also was introduced to Assyria and the periphery. It becomes clearly visible that she obtained royal recognition, and that she played an important role in private devotion and requests for healing, for instance through offerings and votives. Gula’s role in hemerologies demonstrates that she was significant to the common man in daily life as well as to the elite and the king. In the Babylonian Almanac, an almanac for the common man giving guidance on favorable and unfavorable days that is found in the Babylonian heartland and its periphery, the 9th day is the day of Gula, a favorable day and a day of offerings and festivals to her.81 Hemerologies directed to the elite and the king such as the Offering Bread Hemerology and Inbu bēl arḫi also show that the 9th was the (favorable) day of Gula and Ninurta; the 19th day is unfavorable as it is the day of the wrath of Gula and Ninurta.82 Gula is consistently
76 77 78 79 80 81 82
yos 11 5b lines 9–14. See previous paragraph. See paragraph 2.3.3. For Kusu, see Michalowski 1993: 158–159; Simons 2018. For Ninirigal, also a cleansing/purity deity, see Conti 1997: 61 n. 24. See also yos 11 68, a syllabic Sumerian incantation. Livingstone 2013: 34–35, 254, see also 384. See also Frankena 1971: 696. These traditions were also known in Ḫattuša and Ugarit still in use in the late 1st millennium b.c.e (Livingstone 2013: 109, 112, 125, 129, 131, 201–205, 209, 213, 215, 219–220, 225, 231, 233).
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called Gula in hemerologies (never as Ninisina and Ninkarrak and, except for one occasion, not as Meme either83), and thus seems to have entered this tradition on her own account. This connection with Ninurta seen in hemerologies is also evident in other sources, and the two were paired regularly. Her cult at Nippur, which after Dūr-Kurigalzu and Babylon was the most important city of the Kassite kingdom, grew significantly. At Isin, which in contrast to Nippur, was not a flourishing city at this time, but rather an old site respected for its religious traditions,84 Gula became the most important healing goddess, with Ninisina taking on an official role. In fact, she became the divine healer per se in Babylonia as well as Assyria, and her connection to healing and professional asûs is well established at this time. In Babylonia, she seems to have had a temple in Dur-Kurigalzu, Sippar, Ḫilpu, Ur,85 and Dūr-Enlilē, sources of which draw a connection between the temple of Gula and shrines of Ninurta.86 The sites Nippur, Isin, Dūr-Kurigalzu and Sippar (together with Ḫilpu) will be discussed in more detail, due to the archaeological sources found at these sites that provide important insight into her cult and character. 3.2.1.1 Nippur The temple or shrine of Gula at Nippur is well attested in Kassite administrative texts.
83
84 85 86
K 4093 obv. ii 10′ (Inbu bēl arḫi), as the goddess to whom, together with Ninurta (dmaš), a bread offering by the king should be made; however, in the same entry (line 4′), the day (19th of Addaru) is that of the wrath of Gula (dgu-la), Livingstone 2013: 231. Once, Inbu bēl arḫi attributes the 19th to Bau (the 19th of Ṭebētu, K 2809+ ii 3′), but in the same entry (line 9′), the bread offering of the king is for Gula (dgu-la) and Ninurta (Livingstone 2013: 225, 254). For one other entry of Bau, see the Offering Bread Hemerology obv. ii. 70, 73; Livingstone 2013: 114, 153. Except for these two occasions, Gula is the only healing deity who is mentioned in Babylonian and Assyrian hemerologies. Livingstone 2013: 235. Hemerologies all have their basis in Babylonia, but were already known in Assyria as early as the reign of Tukulti-Ninurta i (Livingstone 2013: 3). According to a cultic calendar of TukultiNinurta i (Livingstone 2013: 249–250; 255–256), the 12th of the month is the day of a bread offering to Gula (na-da-an ninda ša₂ dgu-la), and the the 9th day is the day of Gula, as well as probably the 19th (Livingstone 2013: 235, 254, 270). Brinkman 1976: 41 n. 45; Kaniuth 2017: 498–499; see also Beaulieu 2019: 6–7. be 14 148: 9, 25 (dgu-la u₂-[ri]?; Sassmannshausen 2001: 159). cusas 37 119: 9 (e₂ dgu-la ša ba[d₃-den-lil₂-meški]) and mun 307: 6 ([e₂ dg]u-⸢la⸣ ša bad₃d+en-lil₂-meški; reading suggested by Devecchi 2020: 162, based on collations and parallels with cusas 37 119; the picture on the cdli picture supports this reading). Note that these list also mention 5 temples of Ninurta. See further cusas 37 219: 2; 243: 8; cusas 30 203: 9; 384: 6; 390: 8 (references to temple of Gula), and cusas 30 2: 13′; 399: 10 (Iddin-marduk, lu₂kid-bar priest of Gula).
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Several Nippur administrative texts record distributions to a shrine of Gula,87 and it played a role in the akītu festival of Marduk that took place at Nippur by the 13th century b.c.e.88 It has been suggested that the structure excavated at Nippur on the west mound of the tell in area wa was the temple of Gula, because objects were discovered around this temple that indicate the worship of Gula. These include Middle Babylonian clay dog figurines and bronze pendants in the shape of dogs,89 a small lapis lazuli disc with an inscription dedicated to Gula, and crudely made baked clay figurines of human beings, one touching his neck and others holding their head, chin, or abdomen.90 The presence of a healing deity may further be confirmed by three medical texts that were found in a Seleucid garbage dump (pit wa50c) near the temple.91 Gibson (1993: 14–15; 2001–2002) concluded that these finds must point to a shrine of Gula, that was probably part of the Ninurta temple.92 It has been argued that the Ninurta temple should have been located at the other side of the Šaṭṭ-alNīl near the Inanna temple,93 but it is more likely that this temple in the wa area, which is substantial and goes back to at least the Ur iii period,94 was dedicated to an important Nippurian deity such as Ninurta, and not to a goddess who was insignificant at this site until the Middle Babylonian period. Gibson (1993: 15) also stated that although the earlier layers of the temple have not been excavated, it can be concluded that in these older phases the temple was not dedicated to Gula, as she did not make her appearance in Nippur until after 2000 b.c.e. Perhaps the above-mentioned dog figurine or pendant found in a layer dating to the Old Babylonian period alludes to a shrine of Ninisina, who
87
88 89 90 91 92
93
94
be 15 74: 2; pbs 2/2 83: 9, see Sassmannshausen 2001: 158–159, 161, 168, 389. In a temple list from Kassite Nippur (hs 194; Bernhardt and Kramer 1975), a temple of Gula is not mentioned; only a shrine from Nin-Nibru in the Ešumeša, the temple of her spouse Ninurta (see above). cbs 10616 rev. 9, Tenney 2016: 164, 175. Gibson 1990a; 1990b. Gibson 1990a; 1990b; 1993: 14 fig. 11–12; Gibson, Hansen and Zettler 2001: 558. In the southeastern end of wa (Gibson 1990a: 5; 1990b: 23). See Westenholz 1987: 97–98; Gibson 1990b; 1993: 15; Gibson, Hansen and Zettler 2001: 558. Note that Zettler is convinced that the Ninurta temple should be located on the other side of the Šaṭṭ-al-Nīl, near the Inanna temple, see below. Zettler (2003: 11) assumes that the Ninurta temple may have been located to the north of the Inanna temple, as texts belonging to the Ninurta temple were found in the foundation fill of the Inanna temple. Only the northwest corner of the building has been excavated, but it is estimated that the temple was ca. 100 by 40 meters; Gibson 1993: 14. The ground plan of the temple is completely different to that of the Inanna temple at Nippur (Zettler 1992), or the Gula temple at Isin.
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was associated with Ninurta and dogs at this time, in the temple of Ninurta,95 and that this shrine became that of Gula in the Middle Babylonian period. Gula’s close affiliation to Ninurta as well as her inclusion in Nippur and the circles of Enlil is well established from this time period on, which is for instance demonstrated in her new epithet kallat Ešarra, alluding to her courtship with Enlil’s son.96 The name of Gula’s shrine at Nippur probably was the Eʾurusagga: a dog figurine dedicated to the Isin ii period, inscribed with the name of Ninkarrak, states that it has been placed in the Eʾurusagga.97 This name further seems to be applied to a Gula shrine at Nippur in 1st millennium b.c.e. sources, although it is never directly mentioned with Gula.98 That Gula played a role in the Akītu festival celebrated at Nippur, which during the Kassite period seems to have become a national festival involving the king and a symbol of royal power,99 gives the impression that Gula was incorpo-
95 96
97 98
99
See paragraph 4.2.1.1. mdp 2 113–114 ii′ 13 (Paulus 2014: 763 U 6); bbst 6 ii 39 (Paulus 2014: 507 nku i 2); see also ⸢ša⸣ [i-na] e₂-⸢šar₂⸣-ra mi-lik-ša₂ ⸢maḫ⸣-ru-u₂, im 67953 v 4′ (Page 1967: 55 v 4′; Paulus 2014: 451 mai i 3). Gula and Ninurta were also regularly paired from this time on. 12 N 656, Civil 1978: 122. George identified the Eʾurusagga as Gula’s temple based on several 1st millennium b.c.e. sources: the cultic commentary ao 17662: 4–10 (Nougayrol 1947a: 35; George 1992: 451), which lists the same deities as inhabitants of the Eʾurusagga, including Ninurta and Gula (Meme), as the Nippur Compendium (v 14–17, George 1992: 158); the Nippur Temple List from Late Babylonian Sippar (George 1992: 163–165 no. 19, l. 24′–26′) in which no divine name is directly connected to the temple; and litanies, in which the temple is that of Nintinuga/Gašantiluba, and sometimes a name for the Egalmaḫ at Isin (George 1992: 455; George 1993a: 158 no. 1208). The name is also known from Late Babylonian administrative documents (TuM 2–3 241: 6, a list of ginû-offerings for temples at Nippur, and letter order McEwan 1982: 60 no. 48: 5, a letter order; see George 1992: 455; 1993a: 158 no. 1208). These sources do not exclude the possibility that this is the name of the shrine of Gula in Ninurta’s temple. Sassmannshausen (2001: 157) and Charpin (2017: 38, 206–207) identify the shrine of Gula excavated at Nippur as the Eʾurusagga. Note that there may have been an Egalmaḫ shrine to Ninisina (and later to Gula?) in the Ekur, George 1993a: 88–89 no. 323. George (1992: 292; 1993a: 106 no. 544) mentions that an Ekašbar is a shrine of Gula in the temple of Ninurta, based on the fact that this temple name occurs in the Gula Hymn of Bulluṭsa-rabi as the shrine of Gula as Šarrat Nippuri (Lambert 1967b: 124 line 128). However, this attestation does not mean that Šarrat Nippuri and Gula are normally associated with each other (Krebernik 2009: 77), especially not in the Middle Babylonian period. Šarrat Nippuri is a manifestation of Inanna/Ištar (Krebernik 2009), who had a shrine in the Ešumeša in the Middle Babylonian period (hs 194 obv. 16, Bernhardt and Kramer 1975: 98); it is not mentioned by name, but probably is the Ekašbar. See also Asher-Greve and Westenholz 2013: 102–103. cbs 10616 rev. 9, Tenney 2016: 164–166.
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rated in the royal ideology and the religious legitimization of the king. It is evident from hemerologies and cultic calendars that Gula became an important deity in Babylonian and Assyrian personal and state worship. The Babylonian kings and elite regularly invoked Gula, often together with Ninurta, in the blessings and curses of kudurrus;100 Nazi-Maruttaš even had one of his kudurrus, which contains a curse of Gula and a depiction of a dog, set up in her sanctuary (bara₂).101 Royal devotion to Gula by Kassite kings is furthermore expressed in the votive inscription of Šagarakti-šuriaš dedicated to Gula.102 Gula was also significant outside official settings, and probably commonly invoked by the population of Nippur for healing and health purposes. This is alluded to for instance by the fact that after Ištar, Gula was the most common feminine theophoric element in personal names in Nippur.103 The Nippurian priestly families were involved with the establishment of the cult of Enlil and his family, including Gula, in the new royal residencial city Dūr-Kurigalzu,104 as well as its surroundings. 3.2.1.2 Dūr-Kurigalzu Dūr-Kurigalzu was a new city built by Kurigalzu i as an additional royal residence.105 Probably to combine traditional cult (which represents continuity and legitimacy) with a statement of a new political order, Kurigalzu i built a large temple area with ziggurat at Dūr-Kurigalzu to establish a cult center for the Nippurian deities Enlil, Ninlil, and Ninurta.106 As Ninurta’s spouse, Gula also had a cult in this city. The theophoric element Gula appears in personal names in documents from Dūr-Kurigalzu, some of which, like Uballiṭsu-Gula
100
101 102 103 104 105 106
Borger 1970: 3 iv 7 (Paulus 2014: 457 mai i 4); mdp 2 112 i 46–48, ii 18 (Paulus 2014: 418 mš 5); nbc 9502 v 20′ (Paulus 2014: 473 mai i 7); BBSt 5 iii 27 (Paulus 2014: 443 mai i 2); bbst 6 ii 39–40 (Paulus 2014: 507 nku i 2); im 80908 i 25 (Paulus 2014: 582 mšz 2); mdp 2 113–114 ii′ 13–19 (Paulus 2014: 763 U 6). See also Watanabe 1987: 35. For the attestations of Gula’s popular illness-invoking curse, see below. Note that Böck (2014: 32) recognizes a relationship between Gula and pregnancy in curses that threaten to eradicate or destroy the seed of the cursed, but this is a common curse that is not limited to deities who are involved with pregnancy. L 7072: 48′–50′, Arnaud 1972: 167–168; Magueron 1972: 155, 158; Slanski 2003: 57, 70–74, 142– 143; Paulus 2014: 65, 321 (nm 1). It is not known which sanctuary of Gula is meant. Brinkman 1976: 288 v.2.4; Stein 2000: 144 (Ka 38); Bartelmus 2017: 285, 287, 289. Bartelmus 2017: 274, 310; see also Hölscher 1996; Sassmannshausen 2001; van Soldt 2015. See the case of Ninurta-rēṣūšu discussed in paragraph 3.2.1.4; Beaulieu 2019: 6–7. For the relationship between Dūr-Kurigalzu and Nippur, see Tenney 2011: 142–143. Brinkman 2004: 287 n. 26; Tenney 2011: 142–143; Clayden 2017. Clayden 2017: 447–448; Beaulieu 2019: 6–7.
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and Gula-balāṭa-ēriš, refer to her abilities to heal or keep alive.107 Otherwise the evidence that the Kassite city Dūr-Kurigalzu was a cult center of Gula comes mostly from archaeological sources. A set of floor surfaces was found approximately 2 kilometers to the northwest of the main palace at Dūr-Kurigalzu (Aqar Quf), covered with “some hundreds of broken terracotta figurines in varying states of preservation”.108 Among these were both human and animal figurines. The human figurines, one of which carries an inscription, are generally kneeling, some of them with their hands placed on specific body parts, like the abdomen, chest, face and eyes.109 About half of the animals are dogs, and several of those bear inscriptions to Gula.110 This suggests that Gula was revered here, and that the pavements were probably part of a Gula temple.111 3.2.1.3 Isin Isin, which was city of the healing goddess Ninisina, had been largely abandoned after the reign of Samsu-Iluna112 and was rebuilt by Kurigalzu i.113 From then on, the cult of Gula, who was called “the inhabitant of Isin” (āšibti Isin) in a Kassite letter,114 grew at Isin. At this site, which (especially based on later sources) was renowned for its healing,115 she became the most prominent (healing) goddess. The cult of Ninisina did however not yet disappear with the rise of Gula, and it seems that these two goddesses continued to serve different purposes, especially in the context of the Egalmaḫ: Gula was addressed in petitions for healing in the temple, and in royal inscriptions, the temple was typically considered the shrine of Ninisina. The Egalmaḫ, the temple of Ninisina at Isin, had been neglected after the Early Old Babylonian period, and was renovated and expanded by Kurigalzu i,
107 108 109 110
111 112 113 114 115
Gurney 1949: 131–133, 136 (nos. 1: 8; 2: 6; 6: 2, 21); Herles 2006: 208 n. 1112. Mustafa 1947: 19; see also Moorey 2005: 136; Clayden 2017: 465–466. Mustafa 1947: 22 nos. 20–27, 36 [fig. 3–4]; see also Clayden 2017: 466. The inscribed figurine is fig. 36 (im 51915, fig. 4); the 5-line inscription is worn and illegible from the picture. Mustafa 1947: 22 no. 19 (im 51920, fig. 2; a-na dgu-la is clearly legible in line 2), no. 37 (im 51917, fig. 4; see also Clayden 2017: 466 fig. 16.23) and no. 38 (im 51916, fig. 5), no. 39 (im 51921, fig. 5); Mustafa 1947: 20; Clayden 2017: 458, 466; Corfù and Oelsner 2018: 132. See also Herles 2006: 208 (nos. 518, 519). The figurines, which are kept in the Iraq Museum in Baghdad, and their inscriptions have only been published by means of photographs from which most of the inscriptions cannot be read. Mustafa 1947; Clayden 2017: 458, 465–466. Charpin 1992; Kaniuth 2017: 492. Clayden 1996; Bartelmus 2010; Kaniuth 2017. dgu-la a-šib-ti uru i-si-in, pbs 1/2 30: 4. For this letter, see Waschow 1936: 10–11. See paragraph 7.2.3.
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which became the temple’s main building phase.116 In all but one of his inscriptions Kurigalzu i is reported to have dedicated the temple to Gula, not Ninisina.117 From this period on, the temple housed objects bearing Gula’s name. In two of the temple’s rooms, large numbers of clay dog figurines as well as human figurines touching body parts, like ib 1260, a kneeling man with his left hand behind his back and his right arm (which is partially broken off) extended forward, perhaps as a gesture to invoke Gula.118 In addition, 33 dog burials119 were found on and around a ramp built by Adad-apla-iddina I that seems to belong to the Gula temple,120 which confirms the relationship between Gula and dogs. The dogs were of various breeds,121 and the skeletons of the dogs, which mostly were young when they died, show healed fractures. It is unclear how they died, but there is no evidence for blunt force trauma,122 and it is unlikely that the injured dogs were buried around the temple as sacrifices.123 It has been suggested that dogs took part in the cult and/or healing rituals,
116
117
118
119
120 121 122 123
Hrouda 1981: 199; Seidl in Hrouda 1992: 15. The building itself probably was in use as early as the Early Dynastic period as indicated by early building layers of planoconvex bricks (Haussperger in Hrouda 1981: 198; 1992: 17–21). On all his brick inscriptions Kurigalzu dedicates the Egalmaḫ to Gula (Wilcke 2018: 52 nos. 20–22, see also Brinkman 1976: 214 Q.2.22, 446–447 Add. 28 and 29; Walker and Wilcke 1981: 96–98; Bartelmus 2017: 281, 291–292, 295). On one door sockel he dedicates the Egalmaḫ to Ninisina (Krebernik and Sommerfeld in Hrouda 1992: 163–164 E.6.3). Later the temple was renewed by Kadašman-Enlil (Walker and Wilcke in Hrouda 1981: 96–99; Sommerfeld in Hrouda 1992: 163–164; Bartelmus 2010: 156 with footnotes 73 and 77, 159 with footnote 85; see also George 1993a: 88), Adad-šuma-uṣur and Meli-Šipak (Walker and Wilcke in Hrouda 1981: 99–101), whose bricks are dedicated to Ninisina (Wilcke 2018: 52–53 nos. 25–30, see also Walker and Wilcke in Hrouda 1981: 98–100; Bartelmus 2017: 280–282, 291–292, 293, 295). Hrouda 1977: 18, 43, 52; Haussperger, Hrouda and Strommenger in Hrouda 1981: 18; Hrouda and Braun-Holzinger in Hrouda 1981: 62–67 with plates 25 and 27; 1992: 57; Kaniuth 2017: 498–499 fig. 18.07; Moorey 2005: 136. The rooms are xxiv and xxix (Hrouda 1977: 16–19); in the latter, a remarkle burial was found in a reportedly isolated layer with the remains of an ill and deformed man dated to the early 1st millennium b.c.e. (Haussperger, Hrouda and Strommenger in Hrouda 1981: 17 [grave 96]; Ziegelmayer in Hrouda 1981: 107–108, 113). It is however hard to imagine that this burial is not intrusive, because of the improbability of human burials in temples. Hrouda 1977: 18–19, plates 14–15. Hrouda first spoke of 36 dog burials (1973: 40), but later it became clear that three burials contained human remains (Hrouda 1977: 18 n. 1). For the canine skeletal remains, see Boessneck in Hrouda 1977: 93–109. Hrouda 1973; Edzard and Wilcke in Hrouda 1977: 89–90; see also Livingstone 1988: 58; Charpin 2017: 46. Boessneck in Hrouda 1977: 97–109; Groneberg 2007a: 95. Boessneck 1977: 102. See also Avalos 1995: 212.
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and that touching them or letting dogs lick the wounds of visiting sufferers would heal the patient.124 There is, however, not a single reference in the texts of such beliefs or practices.125 Groneberg (2000: 302–304) rather sees the dogs as substitutes whose injuries would have been inflicted during ritual actions in order to transfer the injuries of patients onto the animals. Another suggestion is that sick and poorly treated dogs were taken to the temple to be healed or given a proper burial on the temple grounds in honor of the healing goddess.126 Support for this assumption comes from lka 20, an “incantation of burnt material”127 that concerns Gula (although Bau also occurs in unclear context) and an afflicted person’s possible transgressions against dogs and cats.128 The introduction of the patient by the healer who recites the incantation is followed by a list of ikkibus of Gula that the patient may have infringed on.129 All of these have to do with improper behavior towards dogs and cats, such as not interrupting a fight between dogs or cats, disregarding and not burying dog or cat corpses, and apparently not having the proper emotional reaction to death (i.e. crying) over seeing a dead dog or cat.130 The proper handling of (the death of) any dog and cat thus seems to have been of great importance to Gula and this associates her with their burials. lka 20 may also contain a reference to a burial ground
124
125 126 127 128
129 130
Boessneck in Hrouda 1977: 102; Livingstone 1988: 59; Avalos 1995: 202–211 (who considers the fact that figurine ib 29 [Hrouda 1977: 52, plates 12 and 25] represents a ritual involving kneeling and touching dogs); for the practice of dogs licking wounds in the temple as saliva would be healing, see Jacobsen 1970: 33; Fuhr 1977: 138–145; Böck 2014: 44; Charpin 2008: 302 n. 653; 2011b: 410; 2017: 46–51. On the potential treatments of illness with dog saliva, see further Riethmüller 2005: 1 239–240; Ogden 2013: 369. Groneberg 2000: 309; Steinert 2014: 359–360. Avalos 1995: 211; Attinger 2008: 56. [ka-inim]-⸢ma⸣ ša₂ qi₂-lu-⸢te⸣, lka 20: 26. Only partial translations of the text exist (van der Toorn 1985: 26 [translation lines 8–12]; 168 n. 223; Böck 2014: 39–40 [translation lines 8–17]; see also Mayer 1976: 387; Avalos 1995: 186–187; Attinger 2008: 56). I thank Mark Geller and the BabMed team for discussing my collations and edition of the text during the Keilschriftmedizinseminare in Berlin in June 2017. For Bau in the text, see lka 20: 21, a line that is difficult to understand. All other divine names are Gula (lines 1, 6, 8, 22, 31); once she is called Meme (line 29). nig₂-gig-ki mar-ṣu ma-gal i-ta-[kal], “he infringed on your [=Gula] serious taboo”, lka 20: 7. E.g. [ur-gi₇ uš₂ igi]-⸢ma la⸣ iq-bir-ma i-šiṭ-⸢ma⸣, “[he saw a dead dog] but he did not bury (it) and he disregarded (it)”, lka 2o: 12; sa-a ⸢uš₂ igi⸣-ma la ⸢iq-bir⸣, “he saw a dead cat but did not bury (it)”, lka 20: 16; ⸢sa⸣-a nap-lu-tu₂ igi-ma ul ib-k[i-ma], “he saw a cat cadavre?, but he did not cry”, lka 20: 18. After the description of these transgressions, the goddess is praised and asked to intercede, and a ritual is performed during which the patient prepares a burnt offering and lays out the aroma of roasted meat for Gula.
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for animals,131 which is perhaps also hinted at in the Götteradressbuch of Aššur, where the Esabad of Gula is known as the bītu nāṣir qubūru, “the House that Guards the Grave”.132 It seems most likely that dogs could be kept or buried at shrines of Gula and Ninisina and played some part in their cult, even though this only happened at a few sites and during seemingly short time frames: the Ur iii evidence only mentioned offerings to Gula for dogs from the 42nd year of Šulgi up until the 6th year of Šu-Sîn;133 the E₂-ur-gi₇-ra was built by Enlil-bāni for Ninisina probably at Isin and is only referenced in this one royal inscription; the dog burials at Isin only took place in the early 1st millennium b.c.e. None of this evidence nor any other textual reference draws a connection between the dogs and actual healing practices. Rather, the involvement of dogs in the cult of Gula and Ninisina (as well as the dog as emblem for Gula since the Old Babylonian period and dedicatory figurines in the shape of dogs) seems to result from the dog’s symbolic value to these deities: like them, dogs had a liminal status, and were conceived as beings who could move between the realm of the living and the dead.134 3.2.1.4 Sippar and Ḫilpu At Sippar, her cult continued, but the evidence is scarce.135 The most important sources are votive inscriptions to Gula. One of these is a votive inscription on a seated dog of substantial size (34×10cm) missing its head and legs. It is dedicated to Gula for the life of Nazi-maruttaš by Ninurta-rēṣūšu, the royal high priest (ša₃-tam lugal) of Enlil and high priest (ša₃-tam) of Enlil’s temple in Dūr-Kurigalzu, who came from a Nippurite priestly family.136 The inscription calls Gula an exalted lady and a mother of the gods, but her healing qualities are not mentioned. It was fashioned in the Emupada (e₂-mu-pa₃-da, “House Chosen by Name”), the temple of Gula and Ninurta at Ḫilpu, as becomes clear from another inscription by Ninurta-rēṣūšu, in which he is called the nešakku of Enlil. He dedicated the inscription to Adad, who received offerings in the kisal
131 132 133 134 135 136
[ina qu?]-⸢bu⸣-re-e ma-ʾ-du-te du-⸢du-ak, “he walks continuously among the many graves?”, lka 20: 19. George 1992: 180–181 no. 20 line 174–175, see paragraph 3.3.1.1. Tsouparopoulou 2020: 21–23 Table 1, see also paragraph 2.3.1. Douglas 1966; Veldhuis 1993a: 167; Serpell 1995; Menache 1997; Sibbing Plantholt 2017: 170. Myers 2002: 169–205. 81-7-1, 3395; Sollberger 1968 (no. 1); Brinkman 1976: 266 U 2.21; Walker and Collon 1980: 106 no. 101; Paulus 2011: 20–21; Bartelmus 2017: 290–291; Clayden 2017: 467; Corfù and Oelsner 2018: 133; Beaulieu 2019: 7.
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of the Emupada, the secluded dwelling (šubtu niṣirtu) of Ninurta and Gula.137 Ḫilpu apparently was a cult center of Gula located between Dūr-Kurigalzu and Sippar.138 Another dog figurine found at Sippar was dedicated to Meme, which became a common name for Gula from this period onwards.139 3.2.2 Gula in Image in Babylonia During the Middle Babylonian period, Gula literally became more visible: she obtained a clearly recognizable anthropomorphic form, sometimes as a bust on a pedestal, on kudurrus. She is depicted on three kudurrus as a seated goddess, identified by the inscription dgu-la; on two of these she is accompanied by a dog,140 and on one of these the inscription is preserved, in which she is called azugallatu.141 The dog, which also can occur by itself as an apotropaic being
137
138 139
140 141
bm 92699 B 9–12, Sollberger 1968: 196; Schwemer 2001: 424–425. Also in the Enmeduranki inscription, Nebuchadnezzar i is called the um-mat diškur u dgu-la dingir-meš šur-buti (Lambert 1967a: 128–131, line 12; rimb 2.4.8: 12; Schwemer 2001: 425). The meaning of ummatu, perhaps “offspring”, remains uncertain; see AhW: 1415; Lambert 1967a: 131; Finkel 1988: 149 n. 57; Heeßel 2000: 104–110; 2010a: 140–141; Schwemer 2001: 425; Jursa 2001–2002: 84. Schmidtchen 2018b: 325 suggest to translate it as “(member of a group of cultic) personnel”. Adad is called mudû, “the knowing one”, which according to Schwemer (2001: 425), referred to his knowledge of bārûtu. The terms niṣirtu and mudû are reminiscent of the developing scholarly circles, see paragraph 5.3 and Part 3. Note that besides Adad, Gula was associated with another storm deity, Imzuana, in the Ugaritic Weider God List exemplar rs 20.123+ rev. iv b 17′ (Ug. 5 no. 137). Schwemer (2001: 505 n. 4121) states that no connection between Adad and Imzuana have been established so far. For Imzuana, see Lambert 1976. Sollberger 1968: 195; Nashef 1982: 125; George 1993a: 127 no. 812; Schwemer 2001: 424–425. For this figurine (Scheil 1902: 90–92, fig. 13) and Meme, see paragraph 4.5. Gula was further also equated with a Kassite deity, Ḫala, in the Kassite Akkadian Vocabulary and the Kassite God List (Balkan 1954: 3, 8–9, 106). Very little is known about the Ḫala, except that she occurs in personal names at Nippur (Ipša-Ḫala: cbs 11871 rev. ii′ 3′; um 29-15-11 iv 18; um 29-13-876 obv. 4′; Uzub-Ḫala in be 14 132: 26) and Nuzi (Ipša-Ḫala; see Clay 1912: 90; Gelb, Purves and MacRae 1943: 213, 200; Dosch and Deller 1981: 106; Durand 1981: Tf. 78; ao 26781: 8; Fincke 1993: 121 [Ipša-ḫalu is a city named after this individual]; note that this is the same name as the one that occurs at Nippur). Because she was equated with Gula, Ḫala may have been a healing goddess in the Kassite tradition. Ḫala as a name for Gula is preserved by the scholars into the 1st millennium b.c.e. in 5 R 44, the Catalogue of Texts and Authors from the library of Assurbanipal (Lambert 1962), where we read Me-li-ḫa-li = lu₂-dgu-la (iv 2). There is a name Ḫa-la-šu-ri in a Neo-Assyrian legal transaction (saa 6 107: 9; see also Zadok 1999: 690). If this is indeed a reference to the deity Ḫala, her cult lived on outside scholarly circles. Seidl 1989: 35–38 nos. 50 and 59, 196 (Herles 2006: nos. 50 and 59); see also Seidl 1971: 484, 487; 2017: 322; Paulus 2014: 877 no. 152. mdp 1 168 (Seidl 1989: 28 no. 29, 196; Herles 2006: no. 29; see also Paulus 2014: 876 no. 138).
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or harmdoer, seems to have functioned as her divine symbol mainly during the late Kassite period.142 In the glyptic of Kassite seals, a few cases can be made for dogs holding a connection to Gula through the accompanying inscriptions.143 It is difficult to find a consistent divine figure that could represent Gula,144 but she may be recognizable in human form on a cylinder seal,145 which bears a generic prayer for mercy by the seal owner to Gula. The image depicts a seated goddess with raised hands and a spade in front of her, with on the other side of the spade a dog; it further contains two birds (vultures) picking at a snake.146 A few other Kassite seals mention Gula in their inscriptions, sometimes with Ninurta, but do not depict her.147 Three of these seals emphasize her healing qualities, which will be discussed in paragraph 3.2.4.1.148 3.2.3 Gula in Assyria and the Periphery 3.2.3.1 The Temple of Gula at Aššur Gula also gained the attention of Assyria, where her cult and reputation probably traveled from Babylonia with the scholarly community during the 2nd half of the 2nd millennium bce.149 At this time, she occurs first in the Assyrian ono142 143
144 145 146
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148 149
Seidl 2017: 320, 322–324; see for dogs on kudurrus further Seidl 1989: 36, 74, 82, 84, 95, 143, 196–199, 202; Ornan 2004: 19. Limet 1971: no. 9.3 (Lambert 1970: 46; Stiehler-Alegria Delgado 1996: no. 170; Matthews 1992: no. 31); the inscription is a generic Akkadian prayer to Ninurta and Gula (not referring to any healing qualities), the image depicts a seated man with a dog, as well as a rhomb and rosette. The other seal is Limet 1978–1979: no. 1 (Sassmannshausen 2001: 66 n. 1048; Stiehler-Alegria Delgado 1996: no. 23, 480), of which the first lines of its inscriptions are na₄kišib dda-mu-na-⸢ṣir⸣ / ugula e₂-an-na / e₂-bar dul-sar ša dgu-la, or as Limet (1978–1979: 96) suggests: e₂-maš dul sar = e₂ dul-maš ⟨dub⟩sar (ša dgu-la). For dul-sar as a name for Nisaba (and as a minor deity in Gula’s court?), see Lambert 1983: 241. The seal bears an image of a figure (a bearded man?) on a dog. Ornan (2004: 14 with footnote 15) assumes that dogs on Kassite seals generally represent Gula. See Göhde 2000 for the rhomb being a symbol of Gula. Limet 1971: no. 5.11; Stiehler-Alegria Delgado 1996 no. 221. For the inscription, see also Lambert 1975a: 223. Compare also the seated goddesses on Limet 1971: no. 9.6 and Matthews 1992: no. 173, seal of a Šigu-Gula: the image is a standing figure, according to Matthews (1992: 126) a man. canes 575 (Limet 1971: no. 2.20; Lambert 1975a: 222; Stiehler-Alegria Delgado 1996: no. 189; with Marduk dša₃-[zu]); Limet 1971: no. 8.14 (oip 47: no. 70; Stiehler-Alegria Delgado 1996: no. 236); Genève 55 (Dossin 1958: 223–228; Limet 1971: no. 11.1; Lambert 1975a: 223; StiehlerAlegria Delgado 1996: no. 175). The latter depicts a waterbird, which is probably associated with Bau, see the discussion in paragraph 4.3. Limet 1971: no. 5.7 (Stiehler-Alegria Delgado 1996: no. 241), Limet 1971: no. 8.14 (oip 47: no. 70; Stiehler-Alegria Delgado 1996: no. 236), and Lambert 1988 (Sotheby’s 1988: no. 115). Mesopotamian scribes and scholars were employed to teach the Mesopotamian scribal curriculum and to practice their professions outside Babylonia, see for instance Zaccag-
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masticon,150 and a temple to her was built at Aššur. The temple was rebuilt by Adad-nārārī ii, who reported that Tukultī-Ninurta i had earlier built the temple, although a building inscription of Tukultī-Ninurta i commemorating this has not been found.151 The sanctuary of Gula at Aššur was closely associated with those of Amurru and Marduk, and was adjacent to or may even have been housed within the same complex, to which gates named after these three deities gave access.152 Although no structure has been found at Aššur that could be identified as the temple of Gula, it may be represented on a cylinder seal impression dating to the late 12th century, which depicts a dog in a temple.153 By this time, the healing cult of Gula was well established in Aššur and was observed by the royal family. Two Middle Assyrian administrative texts dating to the reign of Ninurtatukul-Aššur (1133b.c.e.) record the offering of a sheep to Gula in her temple at Aššur for the illness of princess Gizzāya.154 Consequently, the Gula temple was a place visited by inhabitants of Aššur to seek out the goddess and made offerings to her in the hope of divine healing. Moreover, the temple became a library for medical texts, which is known from colophons of 1st millennium b.c.e. medical and literary tablets, but is already alluded to in earlier sources. There is a connection between the šangû-priests of Bau, medical texts and asûs from the late 2nd millennium b.c.e. onwards, which gives the impression that Bau was a name for Gula on at least some occasions. For instance, the Middle Assyrian medical text bam 36 mentions a šangû-priest of Bau at Aššur in the
150 151 152 153
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nini 1983; 1987; 2000; Izreʾel 1997; Wiggermann 2008; Heeßel 2009; Beckman 2013; Devecchi and Sibbing-Plantholt 2020. E.g. Saporetti 1970: 2 187; Freydank and Saporetti 1979: 186. rima 2 A.0.99.2: 128–130 (see also Grayson 1991: 145–146); George 1988: 32; 1993a: 138 no. 946. George 1988: 31–35 (bm 30211); 1992: 462, 464. For the association between these deities, see George 1988: 34; Meinhold 2009: 67. See also Wiggermann 2008: 204. vat 15468; Moortgat 1944: 43 fig. 46; see further for instance Andrae 1977: 155 fig. 131; Fuhr 1977: 137 fig. 8a; Collon 1987: 174 no. 805; Groneberg 2000: 318 fig. 4; Ornan 2004: 14, 18 fig. 6; 2005: fig. 56. For the tablet see marv 3: 11 and nos. 36 and 48; see also Wiggermann 2008: 204 with footnote 10. Dogs on altars as symbols for Gula also occur on Neo-Babylonian seals (Collon 1987: 82, 172 no. 378 and Fuhr 1977: 137 with fig. 8b). A sheep was offered on the 14th day to Gula in the temple of Gula ki-i fgi-za-ya mar-ṣu-tuu₂-ni, “when Gizzāya was ill”, Donbaz 1976: 25 Ist. A 1765: 1–6; see also Weidner 1935–1936: 43; Stol 1997: 409; Wiggermann 2008: 204 n. 10. Also in kaj 209 (vat 9395; see Donbaz 1980: 215) obv. 1–7, a sheep is given to Gula in the temple of Gula on the 14th day, ki-i tiru ša fgi-za-ya la-a ṭa-bu-ni (with ti-ru for ši-ru, see also cad š/3: 113; for a picture of the tablet see https://cdli.ucla.edu/dl/photo/P282222.jpg [visited on December 19, 2019]); see also Zomer 2015: 107.
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colophon.155 These šangû-priests of Bau at Aššur could also be called šangûpriests of Gula156 and served as ancestors of asûs.157 Bau and Gula could indeed be used interchangeably in personal names in colophons,158 and were equated on some occasions, such as in the Assyrian Weidner God List,159 which would support the contention that the šangû-priests of Bau were the šangû-priests of Gula. It must however be emphasized that the goddesses were not always directly equated and still had a separate character, with Bau as the wife of Zababa.160 Perhaps Bau ša qēreb Aššur was a name for Gula to distinguish her from Bau.161 Gula further had shrines in parts of the Middle Assyrian state such as Tell Tabān (ancient Ṭabētu),162 and Mardaman. The latter deserves some attention, as this center is also associated with asûs. 3.2.3.2 Gula and asûs at Mardaman Other Middle-Assyrian evidence for a cult of Gula is found at Bassetki, ancient Mardaman. Mardaman was a North Mesopotamian city located on the fertile Selevani plateau to the east of the Tigris, that may have been a hub in the trading network between Mesopotamia, Syria and Anatolia. It was a major urban center from the Early to the Middle Bronze Age, yet only of minor importance during the Middle- and Neo-Assyrian periods. All that is known about the religion of Mardaman is that its main deity seems to have been Šuwala, a deity with a Hurrian background and with no clear healing properties.163 She was
155 156
157 158 159 160 161 162 163
bam 36: 6′ ([lu₂]⸢e₂⸣-maš dba-u₂ ša₂ urubal-til⸢ki⸣), Hunger 1968: No. 242 (6); Steinert 2018b: 279. Gula-zēru-ibni, who was the ancestor of the scribes of the Erra Epic but also of medical texts, was called the šangû-priest of Bau (e.g. Hunger 1968: 72 no. 222 [bam 148 rev. 31′]; Hunger 1968: 81 no. 238: 7; and kal 7 1//2 h+5 [see May 2018: 71 for collations]; see also Meinhold 2009: 148; pna 1/2: 430; Steinert 2018b: 279), as well as that of Gula (saa 6 59 rev. 9′; see perhaps also saa 14 286 rev. 11′, May 2018: 73 n. 82), see Frankena 1957: 10; Menzel 1981: 1 201–202; pna 1/1: 81 no. 13, 430; May 2018: 71–73. For a šangû-priest of Gula who has Bau in his name, see Bāu-šumu-šukna (vat 9750: 1, 11, pna 1/1: 249). A šangû-priest of Gula (dme-me) is further mentioned in kav 76: 2 (pna 3/2: 1282; May 2018: 73). CMAwR 7.18: 37–39′′ (kal 2 9 rev. 16′–18′), see paragraph 3.3.1.3. Menzel 1981: 1 881–882; 2 86 n. 1102. kav 63 i 48 (⸢d⸣ba-u₂ [dg]u-la; see also Menzel 1981: 1 81; 2 85 n. 1101; Frahm 2011: 256 n. 1213). See paragraph 4.3. May 2018: 72–73. Maul 2005: no. 2 (inscription on a cylinder mentioning the rebuilding of her temple, perhaps called the Egalmaḫ); Shibata 2019: 949–955, 961 (Tab T05A-617+: 13′–14′). Pfälzner and Faist 2020: 371–372, 374. For Šuwala, see Schwemer 2001: 408–410; Haas 1994: 389; Trémouille 2012; Richter 2016: 521.
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worshiped in Mardaman at least from the early 2nd millennium b.c.e. and her cult spread to the north-Syrian and Anatolian areas during the 2nd half of the 2nd millennium b.c.e. It is unclear what happened to the cult of the deity after the site was conquered by the Assyrians.164 One of the fragments from a recently discovered Middle Assyrian cuneiform archive at Mardaman mentions female household personnel of a temple dedicated to Gula, which is a strong indication that a temple of Gula was located at Mardaman, which thus was a cult center of Gula in this period.165 It deserves special mention that during the Old Babylonian period, Mardaman was known, at least in Mari, as the hometown of skilled asûs with access to special kinds of medical substances.166 A scenario in which asûs from Mardaman were considered to be capable healers because the town was an established cult center of Gula (and thus, as some assume, a “medical center”)167 seems unlikely: Gula’s cult was not prominent at the site and there is little to no evidence for a cult of Gula in northern Mesopotamia before the Middle Assyrian period. She was probably brought to Mardaman after the Assyrian conquest. The mere fact that the place had a reputation as the home of healing knowledge and successful asûs would explain why Gula’s cult was subsequently installed at Mardaman. 3.2.3.3 (Scholarly) Sources from the Western Periphery Gula occurs in scholarly texts from the periphery. At Ugarit, Gula appears in incantations, in which she is called bēlet balāṭi, the “mistress of life”.168 She carried this title when people pleaded to her to provide them with health. Also at Emar she bears this epithet in an incantation of Damu and Gula against gastrointestinal disease.169 At Emar, she is further attested in the Silbenvokabular
164 165 166 167 168
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Pfälzner and Faist 2020: 371–372, 374. Pfälzner and Faist 2020: 374 with footnote 111 (bas16C-i6: 3′: e₂ dgu-la); see also Pfälzner and Qasim 2017: 32, 40; Faist in Pfälzner and Qasim 2018: 65. See paragraph 6.3.2. Pfälzner and Faist 2020: 368; for a discussion, see below under paragraph 6.3.2. rs 25.129 + 25.456B: obv. 28′ (Arnaud 2007: 91, 93 no. 25; Del Olmo Lete 2014: 64); rs 25.422 ii 7′ (Arnaud 2007: 61–62 no. 16; Del Olmo Lete 2014: 75). She does not appear in the Ugarit Weidner God List (Arnaud 1982: 203–208). Msk. 731030 l.e. 4 (Emar 6/1 108–109 [copy]; Emar 6/4 737 [edition]; Zomer 2018: 261–263 [edition]). Arnaud (1987: 345–346) reads dam ti.pa.an.ti, “l’ épouse …”, with the latter part a variation of dib-nam-ti[-la], “who gives live”; Farber (1990: 310) already indicated that this should be read as (šipat Damu u) Gula bēlet balāṭi, and also Zomer (2015: 106; 2018: 261–263) suggests to read nin! ti for bēlet balāṭi, followed by en₂! ti, “(it is) an incantation of life” (Farber [1990: 310] reads en₂!?-ti).
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A,170 the Emar god list,171 and in the name of the Mesopotamian scribe and teacher at the Emar scribal school, Kidin-Gula, who was probably responsible for teaching such lexical lists to novice scribes.172 In an Akkadian tablet from Hattuša with instructions for the preparation of medication to dispel sorcery, Gula is present in astral form to give the medication its efficacy.173 Gula thus traveled with scholars to all the corners of the cuneiform world. 3.2.4 Gula and Her Connection to Healing 3.2.4.1 The Title asû/azugallatu and Healing Qualities In the previous paragraphs it has already come to the fore that by the Middle Babylonian period, Gula’s role as healing goddess and divine asû was firmly established. In the following paragraphs, the evidence for this is considered in more depth. A new title of Gula was azugallatu, and a prominent task of hers in this role was to cause illness with no end and prevent people from healing. This is most evident in a famous curse of Gula used in treaties, royal inscriptions, kudurrus and private contracts. It is preserved on 18 kudurrus and goes as follows:174 ṣarriša simma lazza akṣa lā tēbâ ina zumrišu liškunma adi ūmi balṭu šarka u dāma kīma mê lirmuk175
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Emar 6/4 603: 7 (Arnaud 1987: 194), see paragraph 4.5. Emar 6/4 539: 88′ (Gantzert 2006: 307 no. 149); see paragraph 2.2.2. Cohen 2004. Steinert (2017b: 215, 251) assumes that a seal from 13th century b.c.e. Emar (Beyer 2001: 276 G2), which depicts a goddess with an omega symbol in her left hand and a curved object in her right hand, is an image of Gula, who would be holding a “scalpel” (see paragraph 8.3.3). However, as Beyer (2001: 275) already stated, this object rather is a scimitar, an attribute of Ištar which should not be confused with Gula’s “scalpel” or knife (Collon 1994: 44; 2007: 68; compare also Middle Assyrian seal Porada 1979: fig. 14). Gula with “scalpel” does not occur until the 1st millennium b.c.e. (see paragraphs 3.3.1 and 8.3.3). The goddess can thus not be positively identified as Gula, who also is not depicted with an omega symbol anywhere else. kub 37 43 iv 1–3 (Wee 2014: 36; see also damaged sections kub 37 45 i 3′–5′ and kub 37 46 ii 6′–8′). The example is taken from im 74651: 72–75, a kudurru from the reign of Marduk-šapikzēri (Reschid and Wilcke 1975: 58–59; Paulus 2014: 577–578 mšz 1; see also Watanabe 1987: 36–40). For a score of variants from the 2nd and 1st millennia b.c.e., see Watanabe 1987: 35–40; to this list can be added im 56385: i′ 2′–6′ (Al-Rawi 1994: 42; Paulus 2014: 869 U 48); Sb 6425 v 17–vii 2 (Paulus 2014: 478 mai i 8); Lambert 2011. Compare also mdp 6 46 iii 5– 13 (Paulus 2014: 778 U 11); Paulus 2014: 847 U 40 iv 14–17. See further Bartelmus 2017: 303, 305. mdp 6 41 iv 8′ and Sb 6425 vi 2–4 (Paulus 2014: 478 mai i 8) have miqta lā tēbâ, “an incurable infection” after simma (akṣa) lazza. Lambert 2011: 21 iv 63–65 has simma ša lā amāri
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May she lay on his body a growing skin affliction,176 a dangerous, persistent and incurable skin affliction, so that as long as he lives, he bathes in blood and pus like water. Of the 18 kudurrus, six mention explicitly that Gula is an azugallatu; the kudurru from the reign of Marduk-šapik-zēri (im 74651) from which this curse is cited, as well as three from the reign of Marduk-apla-iddina I177 one from the reign of Marduk-nadin-aḫḫe,178 and one undated one.179 In one kudurru, im 90585 vi 7–8,180 her epithet is not azugallātu, but qāʾišat balāṭi “the one who provides life”, although in this context, her power over life will lead to the loss of health and life. This curse of Gula, which continued to be used into the 1st millennium b.c.e.,181 is only connected to her and not to other deities—not even Ninkarrak, who is the first healing goddess to occur with such an illness-invoking curse (in royal inscriptions) in the Epilogue of the Laws of Hammurabi.182 The main difference between the curse of Ninkarrak and the curse of Gula is that the former is not called an asû; she is described as bringing diseases that not only persist, but that an asû cannot understand (lamādu) or cure with his normal treatments (ṣimdu). Thus there is more of an antagonism between asûs and Ninkarrak in this curse than a link between their powers. In the case of Gula, who is called the azugallatu, she is described as bringing persistent skin afflictions and endless pus and blood, indicating that asûs could treat the patient,
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178 179 180 181 182
murṣa ša lā pašāḫi, “a skin affliction the like of which has not been seen, a disease that cannot be alleviated” in stead of simma lazza; im 56385: i′ 3′–4′ (Paulus 2014: 869 U 48) adds lā inuḫḫu “from which he will gain no relief?” after lazza. Various manuscripts have lišabši or lišēṣi, “may she cause to erupt from (his body)” instead of liškun, see also Watanabe 1987: 36–40; Slanski 2003: 74. Ṣarriša is generally treated as an adjective derived from ṣurrušu, “spreading, proliferating, of rank growth”, that would qualify simmu (cad ṣ: 114; Watanabe 1987: 38; Slanski 2003: 191; Paulus 2014: 383). However, it precedes simmu and the latter is followed by another adjective. Böck (2014: 60) suggests that ṣarrišu, also known from the series Sakikkû (33: 105, Heeßel 2000: 363), is a skin affliction, literally meaning “growing one”. This interpretation is followed here. mdp 6 41 iv 6′ (Paulus 2014: 462 mai i 5) and Sb 6425 v 17–vi 1 (Paulus 2014: 478 mai 8), for these two kudurrus, see also Watanabe 1987: 36; and Lambert 2011: 21 iv 63 (Paulus 2014: 482 mai 9). bbst 7 ii 29 (Paulus 2014: 541 mna 2); see also Watanabe 1987: 36. uet 1 165 iii 8 (Paulus 2014: 800 U 19); see also Watanabe 1987: 36. Livingstone 2006: 79 (Al-Aʾdami 1982; Paulus 2014: 558 mna 4); see also Watanabe 1987: 36–40. See paragraph 3.3. See paragraph 4.1.
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if Gula would let them. This is an important nuance, as it reveals a direct connection between the healing powers of the healing goddess and that of asûs. The inscriptions on three Kassite seals refer to her healing qualities. These seals either do not have an image and only bear inscriptions, or are only decorated with flowers. Two seals contain prayers that emphasize that she has the ability to heal and provide life and health. The first one states:183 re-me-na-at dgu-la mu-bal-li₂-ṭa-at kur-ba-a-ši ir₃ pa-li-iḫ-ša ga-am-gid₂, she is merciful, Gula, she is the one who heals: bless her! (For) the servant who fears her, make (life) last long! The second seal contains a phrase similar to the one used in prayer Gula 1a, which refers to her healing knowledge and abilities, which are in sources from the 1st millennium b.c.e. put forward as traits that she shares with professional asûs:184 e-ṭe₃-e-ru₃ ga-ma-a-lu šu-zu-u₂-bu šu-ul-lu-mu šu-uk-lu-lu dgu-la it!-ti-kima na₄kišib fKu-un-na-a-a-tum ‘Saving, sparing, rescuing, maintaining well-being, and making complete are within your power, oh Gula!’ Seal of Kunnajatum. The third seal carries an inscription reminiscent of a wisdom text that calls Gula an asâtu (a-sa-at dgu-la) who is i-le-e bu-ul-lu-⸢ṭa⸣, “able to heal”.185 This seal is an expression of how Gula has become the representation of professional asûs and reflects their desire to emphasize their shared extraordinary abilities, which will be discussed in Chapter 8. Also bam 336, a Middle Assyrian incantation in which Gula is preserved, possibly against the evil eye, establishes a connection between Gula and scholarly experts. The incantation is that of Damu (and perhaps Gula),186 and Gula is invoked to do the healing, so that the one performing her healing, namely the mār apkallī, would be rewarded.187 This
183 184 185 186 187
Limet 1971: no. 5.7 (Stiehler-Alegria Delgado 1996: no. 241). Limet 1971: no. 8.14 (oip 47: no. 70; Stiehler-Alegria Delgado 1996: no. 236); for the verbs referring to her special healing knowledge, see paragraph 8.2. Lambert 1988 (Sotheby’s 1988: no. 115); Stiehler-Alegria Delgado 1996: no. 243. en₂ ul ia-a-[tu₂? …] en₂ dda-mu [u₃ dgu-la?], bam 336 obv. 5′–6′ (Zomer 2015: 109; 2018: 61 n. 203, 331). bam 336 obv. 7′–8′; See Zomer 2018: 64 with footnote 217, and paragraph 8.2.
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seems to indicate that the human expert, namely the scholarly healer, received payment for his healing that he claimed to be ultimately provided by Gula.188 A similar line is found in an incantation at Ugarit, where in a plea to Ninkarrak (as name for Gula?) the ummânus ([dumu] um-mi-a-⸢me⸣) are receiving the gift.189 An analysis of the apkallus and ummânus as scholars and which asûs belonged to their circle is presented in Part 2. Few incantations involving Gula are preserved from 2nd half of the 2nd millennium b.c.e., in which she is called bēlet balāṭi.190 In Middle Assyrian incantation Rm 376 iv 22, Gula is known as the azugallat ilāni rabûti.191 She is invoked among the great gods to ward off a female demonic power that wreaks havoc in various spheres of life. Gula may furthermore make an appearance in a northern Mesopotamian fable found at Sultantepe, the Dispute of Nisaba and Wheat: only a-zu-gal-la-tu is preserved, which as demonstrated, has become Gula’s epithet per se.192 Gula is further called asât in Middle Babylonian personal names,193 whereas in earlier periods, outside of the personal names with Bau in the Ur iii and Old Babylonian periods, the title asû is only connected to male gods in (Akkadian) personal names.194 188
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191 192 193
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An equivalent of this phrase found twice at Ugarit invokes Gula but excludes the experts: dgu-la be-let ba-[l]a-ṭi dgu-la bu-ul-li-⸢ṭi⸣-im-ma nig₂-ba mu-uḫ-ri, “Gula, mistress of life, oh Gula, heal and receive a gift!”, rs 25.129 + 25.456B: obv. 28′–rev. 1 (Arnaud 2007: 91, 93 no. 25; Del Olmo Lete 2014: 63–68); [dg]u-la be-le-et ba-la-ṭi [dgu-la? bu]-ul-li-ṭi-ma nig₂-ba mu-uḫ-ri, rs 25.422 ii 7′–8′ (Arnaud 2007: 61–62 no. 16; Del Olmo Lete 2014: 74–77). Ug. 5 no. 19 (rs 20.006): 12–13; Fincke 2000: 301–302; Del Olmo Lete 2014: 69–71. See also Foster 2005: 967. See also paragraph 4.1.4. See the incantations from Ugarit and Emar mentioned above. kal 4 34: 7′–16′ may be a Middle or early Neo-Assyrian bilingual ritual against divine wrath. It takes place on the roof a patient’s house, where Gula is present in her astral form (see for instance line 8′: ana igi dgu-la ur₃ sar, “before Gula you sweep the roof”). d⸢gu-la⸣ a-su-gal-la-at dingir-meš gal-[meš] (Lambert 1965 [in particular page 286, 288]; Zomer 2018: 328–329). Lambert 1960: 172 (stt 34; stt 35; kar 301 iv 1). Due to its focus on rainfall, the fable may originate in northern Babylonia (Lambert 1960: 168). Gula-asât in be 15 200 iii 13 and be 15 188 ii! 7′; the name Bēltu-asât is attested at least three times (be 15 200 i 39; cbs 10898: 3′; cbs 3650 rev. i′ 16′ [for the latter see Tenney 2011: 163]). See also Stamm 1939: 223. Other personal names in which the healing aspects of Gula are more generally reflected are Gula-mušallim, “Gula is the one who heals” (be 15 190 iii 14′) and Gula-balāṭa-ī/ēriš, “I/he asked Gula for life” (pbs 2/2 108: 19). For an overview of standard personal names with the theophoric element Gula in the Old Babylonian, Middle Babylonian and Neo-Assyrian period that do not specifically refer to her healing properties, see Zomer 2015: 107. Damu (see paragraph 4.2), Ištarān (Jacobsen 1937–1939: 364 line 4, see paragraph 3.1.1.1), Erra and Sîn (Bowes 1987: 824; see also cusas 32 147: 29 for Sîn-asû) were called asû in Old Babylonian personal names. In fact, asû did not occur anymore in Kassite personal names
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Other connections between asûs and Gula may be established at Mardaman, and the famous Middle Babylonian asû Rabâ-ša-Marduk, who worked for the Babylonian royal court and was sent to the Hittite king to serve as a healer. He may have dedicated a votive inscription to Gula.195 3.2.4.2 Requests for Healing: Figurines and Votive Inscriptions It is clear from Gula’s cult centers in Aššur and Babylonia that supplicants visited Gula’s shrines when they were ill in order to ask for healing or give thanks for healing. In Babylonia, in particular in Dūr-Kurigalzu, Isin and Nippur, terracotta dog and human figurines were dedicated to Gula, the latter touching body parts, such as the back, abdomen or chest, face, mouth and eyes.196 These are generally assumed to be ex-voto gifts as thanksgiving for healing,197 or a petition for healing of the touched area, the figurines thus representing the suffering patients who are in need of healing.198 To this another group of votive offerings should be added, namely that of models of individual body parts. Clay representations of feet, legs, arms, and hands were found around the ramp of the Gula temple at Isin, which may be dedicated to Gula to ask for healing of this specific body part.199 Such a practice is already evidenced in cusas 17 9 an inscribed human foot with carefully drawn toes from the Presargonic or Sargonic period, which seems to represent the sick foot of the dedicator.200 The inscription a-na ma-ši-ke₃(ak), “what should I do regarding myself?,” appears to be a plea directed to a deity for healing instructions and assistance.201 Which deity is meant in this case cannot be determined, as the context of the object
195 196
197 198
199 200 201
at Nippur (Hölscher 1996: 246). In Middle Assyrian names, the title asâtu is not necessarily connected to Gula, but also to other deities, such as Asuʾat-Idiglat and Ištar-asuʾat, and also male deities carry the title asû (Saporetti 1970: 38 [Adad-asû], 96 [Asuʾat-Idiglat], 434 [Šamaš-asû]; vs 21 30: 16 [Ištar-asuʾat], see Von Soden 1989: 429; Meinhold 2009: 260–261). See also Asuʾat-nīšē in Tell Sabi Abyad (T88–01 and T88–03), but this name may not refer to a deity but the profession of the name bearer. im 49104. Photograph published by Edzard 1959: plate i; edition by Bartelmus 2017: 312; see further Devecchi and Sibbing-Plantholt 2020: 320. Moorey (2005: 117–118) postulates that terracotta heads and busts excavated at Isin relate to the cult of Gula as well, although he admits that it is not clear how these objects might relate to Gula or the other terracotta figurines dedicated to the goddess. E.g. Braun-Holzinger in Hrouda 1981: 65; Spycket 1990; Haussperger 1997: 206. E.g. Mustafa 1947: 19–20; Biggs 1990: 626; Gibson 1990b: 18; Avalos 1995: 209–210; Attinger 2008: 60. For these interpretations of anatomical votives in the Greco-Roman period, see for instance van Straten 1981; Graham and Draycott 2017. Hrouda 1977: 39–42; Spycket 1990; Charpin 2017: 34–37. For foot ailments, see paragraph 5.1. George 2011: 10.
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is unknown. Another example of a body part inscribed with a request for healing may be a Middle Assyrian clay cylinder from Aššur, which appears to have the shape of a lower leg and contains a request for healing of the knee or shin directed to Ištar.202 Another underlying meaning for these votives may be suggested based on anatomical votives from Roman Asia Minor, which could be devoted to a deity in order to confess wrongdoings and request the removal of an infliction from a certain body part that was caused by divine punishment.203 Body part votives could function as ritual or psychological protheses that aided the patient in feeling whole again, as a ritual replacement of the diseased (or missing) body part with a healthy-looking part, as a memory aid, and/or as an embodiment of divine favor and presence. They could serve as the material manifestation of divine support, which gave the patient a sense of wholeness and contributed to the healing process.204 Either way, these body part votives reflect petitions to healing deities to apply their divine power and heal their devotees. Charpin (2011b; 2017: 31–60) proposes that these figurines represent healing practices conducted at the temples of Gula, which would have served as healing centers, offering cures involving dogs and herbal medication. Since there is no direct evidence for this and illness and disease took mainly place in the private sphere,205 it seems more likely that temples were a place where sufferers could come to ask for divine intervention when healing at the hands of humans was insufficient, or simply when they wanted to cover all grounds to increase the chance of healing. The dog figurines and involvement of dogs with the temple demonstrates that the dogs were important in Gula’s (and Ninisina’s) cult, which is also discussed
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a-na ba-la-aṭ kin₂-ṣi-ia, Freydank 1983: 222 line 8; George 2011: 10. For a patient suffering from knees/shins (ki-in-ṣa-a-ša) that are hurting, see be 17 94 obv. 3′ (Sibbing Plantholt 2014: 173). Potts 2017. Adams 2017: 198–200. Based on comparisons with the Asclepius, Avalos (1995: 194–216) attempted to define temples and other structures as “sick bays” and considered the option for long-term and short-term treatment of patients at Gula’s temples (for this consideration, see for instance also Groneberg 2007a: 96; Maul 2010: 213). There was however no such thing as a collective institution providing long-term care for the sick (contra Waschow 1936: 25), as healing was not a public duty but mainly a private matter, and temples are never referred to as such in the textual record (see also Sibbing Plantholt 2014: 181). Shrines of Asclepius were also rather destinations of pilgrimage (Risse 1999: 28–33, 44) and places where one could receive a message concerning diagnosis and treatment directly from the god through incubation (Nutton 1992: 49; Panagiotidou 2016). For patients being treated at home and in the house of their healers, see Chapter 6.
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earlier in this Chapter. That such (dog) figurines were not limited to a templecontext and could also have been devoted to Gula in domestic cult, is suggested by Corfù and Oelsner (2018: 133). They proposed that animal figurines found in graves, who can only generally be labeled as “quadruped”, may include canine votives to Gula.
3.3
Gula in the 1st Millennium b.c.e.
3.3.1 Gula’s Cult in Babylonia and Assyria The trend of Gula growing as a healing deity with importance to the king and scholars continued in the 1st millennium b.c.e. In Neo-Assyrian royal inscriptions and cultic texts, Gula and her temple in Aššur are commonly referred to.206 Besides Aššur, Assurnaṣirpal built a temple to her in his new royal city Kalḫu,207 but the life of this temple may have been short: it probably was not in use anymore after Assurnaṣirpal’s death.208 The Neo-Assyrian kings invoked Gula in curses209 and she was part of the official cult. Esarhaddon made an offering to Gula on one of his campaigns,210 and nominated Assurbanipal as crown prince on the 12th of Ayyaru, “an auspicious day, (the day of) the bread offerings (sum-ninda) to Gula”211—a hemerol-
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207 208
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See rima 2 A.0.99.2: 128, 132–133. Note that rima 2 A.0.99.3, a fragmentary text of which the last three legible lines (11′-14′) are identical to rima 2 A.0.99.2: 131–133, may not concern the building of the Gula temple since the preceding lines are clearly different. For cultic texts mentioning Gula’s shrines and cult in Aššur, see for instance the Götteradressbuch lines 174–176 (Menzel 1981: 2 no. 64; George 1992: no. 20; Meinhold 2009. no. 15; saa 20 49); the Tākultu ritual 3 R 66 v 30; xi 9′; xii 20′ (Menzel 1981: 2 no. 54; Meinhold 2009 no. 13; saa 20 40), “the Banquet of Gula” (Menzel 1981: 2 no. 48; saa 20 30). See also Frankena 1954: 90; Menzel 1981: 1 115–116, 152–153; George 1988: 30–35. Inscriptions rima 2 A.0.101.1 ii 135, A.0.101.28 v 8, A.0.101.29: 14′, A.0.101.30: 56, and A.0.101. 32: 9; Menzel 1981: 1 92; Reade 2002: 143–144; Novotny 2010: 122; Schaudig 2010: 462–463. Reade 2002: 143–144, 193–194, 197–198. Besides the references by Assurnaṣirpal to a temple of Gula at Kalḫu, there is an uncertain reference to a shrine of Gula in (the vicinity of) Kalḫu: a Neo-Assyrian letter that would be from Kalḫu contains a reference to Ištar visiting the temple of Gula ša ṣēri (e₂ dgu-la ša ṣe-e-[ri]; saa 13 135 rev. 9), see also Reade 2002: 144, 194. For Gula ša ṣēri and her šangû-priest at Aššur, Menzel 1981: 1 177–178, 235. Gula (dme) is mentioned with Ninurta (dmaš) in a vassal treaty of Aššur-nērārī V with Matiʾ-ilu, king of Arpad (saa 2 2: 10–13). For Gula in Neo-Assyrian curses, see Watanabe 1987: 35–40. For Meme as a name for Gula, see paragraph 4.5. rinap 4 Esarhaddon 33 rev 3 iii 1′. rinap 5/1 Assurbanipal 9 (Prism F) i 10; Jeffers 2018: 219–221 (who denotes that several
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ogy that was already established in the cultic calendar of Tukultī-Ninurta i.212 The fact that Gula was important to the Neo-Assyrian kings and their officials is furthermore demonstrated by the fact that the seals of many Neo-Assyrian officials bear depictions of Gula or the pair of Gula and Ninurta,213 and that notables invoked her for the king’s life.214 A cylinder seal of Pān-Aššur-lāmur, governor of Baltil, dating to the reign of Adad-nērārī iii bears the image of Gula and a dedicatory inscription by the seal holder to “his lady” Gula (written dme-me) for the life of the king and himself.215 Gula developed a distinct anthropomorphic iconography in Assyria from the 9th century b.c.e. onwards and became the most frequently depicted goddess on Assyrian seals, perhaps because of her healing power and/or her spousal relationship with Ninurta.216 Particular to Gula in Neo-Assyrian iconography is the fact that she is depicted with a dog and stands in a star-studded L-shape. Collon (1994; 2007: 68–69) interprets this feature as a niche for the cult statue, decorated with stars or lamps, and she attributes the emphasis on the stars to the fact that Gula and her dog were also constellations.217 Gula could also sit on a throne lined with stars, which is not specific to Gula unless the throne also rests on a dog, or she is depicted standing on a dog directly. She also could hold a tablet and a knife in her hand; this will be discussed in Chapter 8. Although she had developed a prominent and clear iconography in Assyria in the 1st millennium b.c.e., she occurs only rarely in anthropomorphic form on Neo-Babylonian seals;218 she could also be represented by her dog,219 but those seals are few as well. She nevertheless was still popular in Babylonia in the late 1st millennium b.c.e., especially with the Neo-Babylonian kings and scholarly community. She had temples at several Babylonian cult centers that were rebuilt under the Neo-Assyrian and Neo-Babylonian kings that continued
212 213 214 215 216 217
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exemplars refer instead to the 18th of Ayyaru and the isinnu ḫunṭi festival for Šamaš qurādi, which seems to have been the original date and hemerological information). See paragraph 3.2.1. Watanabe 1999: 322–323, 326–328, 333–336. Frahm 2009: 155. pkg 14 273g; rima 3 A.0.104.2016; Watanabe 1999: 321; pna 3/1: 983–984. For a discussion of the image on this seal, see paragraph 8.3.3. See Collon 2009. For Gula’s astral nature and her association with constellations, see for instance Weidner 1927: 74–77; bpo 2 ii 7; Abusch 1987: 23, 26–27; Reiner 1995: 52–55; Collon 1994; 2001: 122; Frahm 2011: 384–386, 388; Wee 2014: 24, 35–37. was 5 236 (Collon 1994 no. 8), depicting Gula with six stars on her back, standing on a dog while holding the dog’s leash; see Collon 2007: 69; 2009 § iv and Chapter 8 footnote 175. canes 781 (dog on altar), Collon 2007: 69.
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to be used into the Arsacid period, such as those at Babylon, where she was part of the cultic calendar and had a role in festivals.220 During these festivals she was often paired with Madānu, who took on the role of Ninurta.221 With him she shared the Erabriri and Egalmaḫ shrines in Babylon,222 and together they belonged to the deities from Babylon to whom the king directed his prayers to ask them to intercede for him during the Akītu festival in Tašritu.223 Besides the Egalmaḫ, which was also called the Eḫursagsikila,224 another temple bore a name associated with Ninisina and Gula in the 2nd millennium b.c.e., namely the Esabad; at these temples, festivals were held and she received regular offerings.225 The Esabad of Gula in Babylon is referred to at least until the 1st century b.c.e.226 Babylon probably also had a gate of Gula, which is mentioned in a list of lexical or geographical nature with city gates of Babylon independent of Tintir.227 Gula was further still worshiped at Sippar, in her temple called the Eulla,228 to which sources from Nabopolassar’s reign henceforth attest. She was regularly
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221 222
223
224
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226 227 228
McEwan 1981a: 132–137; Linssen 2004: 88, 91, 163 n. 293. As McEwan (1981a: 137) stated, “she enjoyed a certain level of popularity [at Babylon] during the Arsacid Period”. For the references to Gula’s temples in 1st millennium b.c.e. royal inscriptions, see below. George 1992: 105 n. 25, 304 and below; for the association between Madānu and Ninurta, see also kar 142 i 22–25. See Tintir 4 4–5, where the Erabriri of Madānu is directly followed by the Egalmaḫ of Gula (George 1992: 58–59; 1993a: 136–137 nos. 935 and 936). For the gate of Gula, the ka₂-a-šeer-duḫu-da, “the Gate of the Dispelling of Woe”, in the temple of Madānu, see Gate Lists of the Esagil 7: 16′, George 1992: 96–97. See also Ambos 2013: 100–101. Ambos 2013: 100–101. A šuilla-prayer Gula 1a was part of the prayer-cycle of the bīt salāʾ mê as recorded on tablets from Nineveh, Babylon and Sippar (Ambos 2013: 162–165 [vi.B.2.2. B₂48, x + 20′], 204–209 [vi.B.3.2: 71–96]; Lenzi 2013: 2–3). George 1992: 58, 62, 305; 1993a: 102 no. 488. This temple survived into the Arsacid period (brm 1 99: 27 // ct 49 15: 24, George 1993a: 102 no. 488). The Eḫursagkuga was also a temple of Gula in later periods (McEwan 1981a: 137; 1981b: 56, 145), probably built after Tintir was compiled as it does not appear in this composition (George 1992: 130–133, 306; 1993a: 101 no. 485). McEwan 1981a; 1981b: 56, 145; George 1992: 62 Tintir 4 42 (Esabad the temple of Gula in Babylon); 305–306, 331–332; 1993a: 102 no. 488; 137 no. 944; 2000: 280–289; Linssen 2004: 117–118, 147. See also the reference to a house facing the gate of the “entry” of Gula (ka₂ ereb dgu-la), which might be the principal gate of the Eḫursagsikila/Egalmaḫ (saa 11 153: 16–17, George 1992: 399 [also mentions bm 32206+ i 38]; pna 1: 298; 2 735). Nebuchadnezzar ii (Nbk 19 vi 20–24; Langdon 1912: 164) mentioned that he buried two golden, two silver and two bronze dogs by the gates of the Esabad in Babylon. MacEwan 1981: 135–137; George 1992: 332; Linssen 2004: 14. 79-7-8, 291 i 14′, George 1992: 213–215. George (1992: 214) restores the Sumerian equivalent as [ka₂-gal dnin-i₃-si-in-na]. George 1993a: 155 no. 1167.
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mentioned in offering lists and received offerings for festivals.229 She appeared in the onomasticon of Sippar, and some personal names refer to her healing powers, such as Uballissu-Gula, “Gula has healed him”.230 Gula’s connection to Adad at Sippar continued into the Achaemenid period as she received offerings together with Adad (and Šala).231 Although at Old-Babylonian Sippar the names of Gula and Ninkarrak were interchangeable, this seems not to have been the case in the Neo-Babylonian period: they seem to have been kept separate. Offering lists from Sippar always call the goddess Gula and her temple the temple of Gula; only in Nebuchadnezzar ii’s inscriptions, the Eulla is consistently called that of Ninkarrak instead of Gula.232 Nebuchadnezzar sometimes called the temples of Gula in Babylon and Borsippa those of Ninkarrak,233 perhaps because Ninkarrak had a special meaning to Nebuchadnezzar ii, which will be discussed in paragraph 4.1.4. Gula still was also worshiped at Nippur and Isin. Nebuchadnezzar ii restored the Egalmaḫ at Isin,234 and she was still revered as the great azugallatu at Isin during this time. This is evidenced in the inscription on a Neo-Babylonian clay dog found at the site, in which she bears several epithets related to heal-
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Bongenaar 1997: 231–232, 241–242 and passim, who noted that Gula did not appear in Sippar offering lists until the 8th regnal year of Nebuchadnezzar ii (see also Myers 2002: 288); however, Da Riva (2002: 278–279, 289) has demonstrated that Gula already had a parakku, “cult dais”, at Sippar Nabopolassar’s reign, as evidenced in offering list bm 50501: 18, Zawadzki 2006: 180–182. Bongenaar 1997: 259–260. For female personal names with the theophoric element Gula in Neo-Babylonian school exercises, see for instance bm 68097 rev. ii′ 4′–8′ and bm 74696 iv 8′–9′, Gesche 2001: 548, 630. Bongenaar 1997: 231 n. 207; Myers 2002: 186–192, 357; Schwemer 2001: 642 n. 5191. Nbk 13; 16 i 33, ii 18, 23; 20 iii 5 (Langdon 1912: 102–112; 142, 144, 182). For the Eulla as temple of Gula and Ninkarrak, see George 1993a: 155 no. 1167. For Nebuchadnezzar calling the temples in Babylon and Borsippa those of Gula, see Nbk 13 (Langdon 1912: 102–112), in which Nebuchadnezzar calls the temple of Ninkarrak in Babylon (and Sippar) as those of Ninkarrak, and those at Borsippa as those of Gula; Nbk 15 (Langdon 1912: 120–140), in which all temples are dedicated to Gula; Nbk 19 vi 9–10 (Langdon 1912: 164). For the inscriptions mentioning Ninkarrak, see Nbk 20 ii 36–46 (Langdon 1912: 180, 182), as well as Nbk 27a ii 10 (Egula) and 27b ii 5–7 (Etila), Langdon 1912: 194; Da Riva 2008: 51–52 (C022 and C023); see also paragraph 4.1.4. The Esabad is always called the temple of Gula. See further George 1993a: 96 no. 424, 102 no. 488, 136 no. 944, 150 no. 1095, 159 no. 1234. The Ezi(da)batila and Etila of Gula (written dme-me) in Borsippa are also mentioned in a fragment of a ritual tablet bm 35019, George 1992: 230 no. 45 obv. 5′–6′ (Gula as Meme). Hrouda 1987: 13, 151. This temple also occurs as the temple of Gula/Ninkarrak in the syncretistic Nanaya hymn, Reiner 1974: 226 (paragraph v), variants A (K 3933) and C (lka 37) respectively.
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ing.235 Her connection to Nippur is alluded to in a document dating to the 2nd year of early Neo-Babylonian king Marduk-balāssu-iqbi. In its curse section she is mentioned with deities whose names are broken off, but based on their epithets they are probably Enlil, Ninurta, and Ninlil, which shows a heavy Nippur tradition.236 The Nippur Compendium reveals that later in the 1st millennium b.c.e., Gula had several shrines at Nippur and her temple housed many deities,237 that there were festivals to Gula in the month Nisan and the 19th day of the month was (still) her day,238 and that she was considered to be the equivalent of Nintinuga.239 By the 2nd half of the 1st millennium b.c.e., she was associated and equated with many deities.240 Her name still occurs in the onomasticon of the Murašû archives in Nippur, and she thus was still revered here during the Achaemenid period.241 At Uruk, where her cult returned after the Ur iii period, she was also worshiped until the later periods. She received offerings and took part in ceremonies and festivals at Uruk during the Neo-Babylonian and Hellenistic period, for instance in Neo-Babylonian clothing ceremonies (lubuštu)242 and the akītu festival, where she was a separate entity from Bau.243 Her temple was part of the Eanna, and perhaps a different manifestation of her had a temple with a šatammu in a town in the vicinity of Uruk named after her, namely Bīt-Gula.244
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ib 18, See paragraph 3.3.1.3. A 33600 [4nt 3], courtesy of John A. Brinkman and Grant Frame, who will publish the text. Gula also had a shrine in the Adad temple, see George 1992: 158–159 Nippur Compendium v 9; Schwemer 2001: 649; Bēlet-balāṭi resided here too, see paragraph 3.3.1.2. For Gula and Adad, see also paragraph 3.2.1.4. For the temple of Gula in which resided 14 divine beings, including Ninurta and Damu, see George 1992: 158–159 Nippur Compendium v 9, 14–17, 20; see also see also ao 17662: 4–10; Nougayrol 1947a: 35; George 1992: 451. George 1992: 152–155 Nippur Compendium iii 9′, 25′. George 1992: 156–157 Nippur Compendium iv 2; she is the equivalent to Ereškigal in iv 8. For this phenomenon in syncretistic hymns and god lists, see below. In bilinguals, Gula could have equivalents, like Meme (see paragraph 4.5), Damu (5 R 44 ii 19; iii 49), Nintinuga (5 R 44 ii 9, stt 179 rev. 48); however, in some bilinguals Gula is not “translated” into Sumerian but has the same name in the Sumerian and Akkadian lines (e.g. bam 7 9 i 44, 49). E.g. Gula-šumu-līšir (written with dgu-la and dme-me), Stolper 1985: 260 no. 64: 11; 262 no. 67: 14; no. 90: 11; Uballissu-Gula (written with dme-me); Stolper 1985: 235 no. 10: 11.; 260 no. 63: 17; see also Clay be 10: 70. Beaulieu 2003: 280–281; Linssen 2004: 53. kar 132 ii 5 iii 24 (Hellenistic), Linssen 2004: 203–204. ncbt 19: 2, 9, Beaulieu 2003: 314–315, pl. 29; see also McEwan 1981b: 76–78. For an overview of her manifestations and cult at Uruk during the Neo-Babylonian period, as well as the difficulties identifying her spouse at this cult center, see Beaulieu 2003: 274–281, 313–316.
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At Borsippa, Gula’s cult had already been active since the Neo-Assyrian period, as Esarhaddon had already renovated a temple of Gula there.245 Nebuchadnezzar restored three temples of her in Borsippa and mentions them by name, namely the Etila, Ezibatila, and Egula.246 Gula received offerings and was part of the cultic calendar at Borsippa,247 and appears in the onomasticon, for instance in names of Rēmūt-Gula and Taqīš-Gula. Noteworthy is that a Gula (ša) ab-bi was worshiped at this site from the Neo-Assyrian until the Late Babylonian period.248 This Gula is mentioned as a separate deity from the Gula of the Etila, and therefore Waerzeggers (2010: 471) assumes that she was the resident of one of the other two temples, the Ezibatila or Egula. Since this name probably should be understood as “Gula of the ancestors”,249 this deity may have been worshiped in this region for a long time, either as an old manifestation of Gula who was perhaps domestic in nature (and thus was revered before Gula attracted royal significance), or as a deity who was later translated into Gula. In one document, Gula ša ab-bi is directly followed by Laḫmu, which is reminiscent of the Göttertypentext, in which a Laḫmu belongs to Gula.250 Gula also had a temple at Dunnu-saʾidi, a place not far from Sippar.251 Gula’s cult was thus still prevalent in many centers in the 1st millennium b.c.e., and she continued to be worshiped in official cults and by the general population, as well as by the scholars, into the Late Babylonian period. This is for instance confirmed by the famous Gula Hymn of Bulluṭsa-rabi, which may have been composed in the late 2nd millennium b.c.e.,252 but is 245
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Esarhaddon reports the renovation of a temple of Gula in Borsippa that had become weak due to flooding (rimb 6.31.10 127: 18′–20′: see also Novotny 2010: 112). Based on this inscription it has been suggested that a structure found by Rassam on the mound Tell Ibrahim al-Khalila is a Gula temple (Unger 1932: 414 and plate 59; see also Reade 1986: 112). See also bm 102253: 13, a text dating probably to the Assyrian domination, that mentions the Etila of Gula (Waerzeggers 2010: 469–471 no. 69). For the references, see paragraph 3.3.1.1. Waerzeggers 2010: 30, 142, 162, 467–469 no. 68 (bm 96100: 23′). bm 102253: 14 ([d]gu-la ša₂ ab-bi; Neo-Assyrian) and bm 29209 (dgu-la ab-bi; dating probably to the reign of Cyrus), Waerzeggers 2010: 469–471 no. 69. Waerzeggers (2010: 471) states that the reading of the component ab-bi is uncertain. mio 1 78 v 45; Wiggermann 2018: 367–368. For a laḫmu of Gula, see also ctmma 2 20 rev. 3′. George 1992: 222, 224–225 bm 77433: 22 (e₂ dgu-la ša₂ dun-nu-sa₃-ʾ-id); 1993a: 164 no. 1317. For Dunnu-sāʾidi, see Harris 1975: 253 n. 62; Groneberg 1980: 56. Lambert (1967b: 109) stated that syncretistic hymns like this did not occur until after the Old Babylonian period, so he gave a timeframe of 1400–700b.c.e. for the date of the original composition. Another reason for Lambert to date this text after the Old Babylonian period is the fact that Ningirsu is presented as an agricultural deity, like in other post-Old Babylonian texts (Lambert 1967b: 113–114).
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reconstructed based on fragments dating from the Neo-Assyrian to the Seleucid periods, and perhaps even from the Arsacid period.253 The text probably was part of the training of scholarly, professional healers throughout the 1st millennium b.c.e., who still deemed her relevant and wanted to preserve the knowledge about and of Gula. This will be discussed in more depth in Chapter 8. 3.3.1.1 Temples, Their Names, and Related Divine Epithets Several names of Gula’s shrines reveal her healing or life-giving nature, not only in the name of the temple, but also through the epithet of Gula that she received in connection to these temples. When a temple of Gula is mentioned in the inscriptions of Nebuchadnezzar ii, the epithets she bears in connection to this temple are derived from the temple name through word play.254 For instance, in relation to the Etila and Ezibatila (written e₂-ti-la and e₂-zi-ba-tila, with ti-la = balāṭu, napištu and zi = napištu), she carries the healing-related epithets šuʾēti balāṭam gāmilat napištīya, “mistress of life, who spares my life” and muballiṭat napištīya “great mistress who keeps my life in good health”.255 Also at Babylon, her shrines hinted to her healing character. According to Tintir, there were several shrines and a gate of Gula in or near the Esagil, including the e₂-u₂-zu, “the Temple that Knows (Medicinal) Plants/Drugs”,256 which George (1992: 272) understands to be an “allusion to the patronage of the medical profession by the shrine’s occupant, the divine azugallatu”. The Esabad (e₂-sa-bad), a temple name traditionally associated with Ninisina,257 was later strongly connected to Gula, who, as previously mentioned, had a temple with this name in Babylon,258 as well as at Aššur. Gula and the names of her temples occupy four lines in the Götteradressbuch.259 The e₂-gal-
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Lambert 1967b: 105–106, 115; George and Taniguchi 2019: nos. 57–62; Földi in Jiménez et al. 2019: 81–83, 86–90. Nbk 13 ii 41–51 and Nbk 19 iv 32–41; Langdon 1912: 108, 164, 166. The same passage with Ninkarrak instead of Gula occurs in Nbk 20 ii 36–46 (Langdon 1912: 180, 182). In comparison, in the Egula (with gu-la for rabû) her greatness and ability to make great is emphasized: rubāti ṣirti mušarbâti zikir šarrūtīya, “exalted ruler who makes great the fame of my kingship great”. George 1992: 10–11, 44–45, 404 (Tintir 2 12), 169, 94–97, 399 (Gate Lists of Esagil 6: 29, 32; 7: 16′); 1993a: 152 no 1125. Compare also the u₂-su, Gula’s shrine in a list of shrines and gods in the Erabriri, the temple of Madānu in the Esagil complex at Babylon (George 1992: 106– 107, 412 rev. iii 9′; 1993a: 152 no. 1124). See paragraph 4.2. See paragraph 3.3.1. George 1992: 171, 180–181 (lines 173–176), 331; 1993a: 88 no. 322, 131 no. 851; 138 no. 946.
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maḫ (bītu rabû ṣīru), the e₂-sa-bad or bīt petât uzni, “the House (of the mistress) whose Ear is Open”, are two names for the same temple. These two entries are followed by a line explaining the e₂-sa-bad as bītu nāṣir qubūri, “the House that Guards the Grave”, and the e₂-nam-ti-la as bīt balāṭi, “House of Life”.260 These Akkadian explanations of the Sumerian temple names could well be later understandings,261 and the reference to burials may allude to her capacity to revive the dead. However, it is also reminiscent of the dog burials found near her temple at Isin (the Egalmaḫ) and the dogs connected to her temple, and the burials of dogs mentioned in lka 20, which is discussed under paragraph 3.2.1.3. It has been suggested that the original meaning of e₂-sa-bad referred to medical practice, namely “The house of the Opening of the Bodily Cords”.262 The by-name e₂-nam-ti-la certainly has a healing connotation, reminiscent of the e₂-u₂-nam-ti-la, ‘The House of the Plant of Life, which is the temple of Ninisina in the Old Babylonian period.263 The most evident connection of the e₂-sa-bad to healing is that it functioned as a medical library. The colophons of 1st millennium b.c.e. medical texts mention the temple of Gula, sometimes specifically called the e₂-sa-bad, as their storage place, and thus the temple must have been a place where medical texts were collected and could be consulted.264 Moreover, the sangû-priests of this temple may have been the ancestors of professional asûs.265
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George 1992: 180–181 no. 20 lines 174–175. This explanation for Enamtila as bīt balāṭi is also given for the Enamtila at Babylon, which is the temple of Enlil (bm 34850 rev. 13′–14′, George 1992: 326; 1993a: 130–131 no. 849). See also kar 109+ obv. 18′ and 20′ (and parallels in George and Taniguchi 2019 nos. 64 obv. 41 and 66 obv. 12′ [composite line 89′]) for explanations of the Enamtila and the Esabad (in this case ina e₂-sa-bad pe-ta-at uz-ni), see George 1992: 331. The Esabad is called the bīt Gula in Urra = ḫubullu 21/4 10 (msl 11 14); George 1992: 226 no. 39 rev. i a 3. See George 1993a: 137–138 nos. 943– 946. George 1992: 331–332, 464, who postulates that the explanation bītu nāṣir qubūri probably is based on the association of the sign bad (= uš₂ and ug₅) with death. Ritter 1965: 313 n. 18; see also Stol 1989b: 164. For sa, “bodily cords”, see paragraphs 4.4.2 and 6.3.1. George 1992: 180–181 no. 20 lines 175–176, 331; 1993a: 131 no. 851; for the e₂-u₂-nam-ti-la, see paragraph 4.2.1.2. Hunger 1968: 71, 116 nos. 202: 1 (bam 99: 56, copy from the Esabad in Aššur) and 380 (stt 73, copy from the Esabad). Hunger 1968: 69, 71, nos. 199: 1 and 203: 1 (bam 201 rev. 43′ and 131 rev. 10′) refer to tablets being stored at the e₂ dme-me. For the Esabad as a storage place for medical texts, see Pedersén 1986: 48; George 1993a: 138 no. 946; Wiggermann 2008: 211; Maul 2010: 213–214; Steinert 2018b: 206, 240–241; Panayotov 2018: 116. See paragraph 4.3.2.
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3.3.1.2 Gula and/as Bēlet-balāṭi, the “Mistress Who Provides Life” As discussed in paragraph 3.2.3.3, bēlet balāṭi was already an epithet of Gula in the 2nd millennium b.c.e. Damu also was called bēl balāṭi since the Old Babylonian period,266 and these epithets clearly emphasized the ability of these deities to heal. Throughout the 1st millennium b.c.e., bēlet balāṭi continued to be used for Gula, in medical texts and incantations (which are often called šipat Gula), including those to calm down babies,267 as well as ritual texts,268 royal inscriptions,269 and astronomical texts.270 It is attested as a name or epithet of Gula at Isin in “Why do you cuss me?”, a 1st millennium b.c.e. text that may go back to the late 2nd millennium b.c.e.271 On two occasions, she was called bēltu ša balāṭi.272 Bēlet balāṭi was used both as an epithet without a divine determinative and as a divine name with a divine determinative. The latter alludes to the possibility that bēlet balāṭi was not only used as an epithet, but also as a name of another separate deity, who became merged with Gula—or perhaps rather it was a manifestation of hers who began to lead her own life.273 Several textual sources confirm that she was (at some point) perceived as a separate goddess and perhaps a personified aspect of Gula. In bm 78076, a ritual from Babylon, Bēlet-balāṭi is the name of a deity belonging to Gula’s retinue residing at the Esabad.274 According to the Nippur Compendium, Bēlet-balāṭi was worshiped in three different locations at Nippur: in the Outer Court of the Scepter and the Ninimma temple,275 as well as the temple of Adad, where she was a resident alongside of Gula, and thus was a separate entity.276 A deity called Bēlet-balāṭi further had a cult at Dēr, who was a healing deity at this site equated with Gula, 266 267
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bm 79938: 7 (Finkel 1999: 218–219 [text 2]), see paragraph 3.1.2. E.g. bam 105: 10, bam 543 iii 51′ and bam 549 iv 9′ (see also bam 553 rev. 6′); bam 553 obv. 3′; bam 533: 46 // bam 543 iii 51′ // SpBTU 1 44: 61, Farber 1989: 42–43 § 2 °42, 86–87 § 25 °369 (incantation of Gula); 98–99 §32 13, see also pages 159, 166–167. See also Zomer 2015: 106. bm 78076: 2, 47, 50, a ritual tablet dating to the reign of Darius, George 2000: 280–289. E.g. Assurbanipal Prism H line 9. bpo 2 ii 7, see below. Cavigneaux 1979; George 1993b (isinki uru dbe-let-ti-la, line 4; lu₂ga₂-maš dgu-la in Isin, line 17). lka 17 obv. 13 (Seux 1976: 104) and Gula Hymn of Bulluṭsa-rabi line 183 (Lambert 1967b: 128–129). Cavigneaux and Krebernik 2001a: 505. George 2000: 282–288; Beaulieu 2003: 313 n. 17. George 1992: 156–159 Nippur Compendium 5 3, 12. George 1992: 158–159 Nippur Compendium v 9; Schwemer 2001: 649. For this passage, see paragraph 3.3.1. Bēleṭ-Balāṭi is not an inhabitant of Gula’s temple. Note that Bēlet-balāṭi appears in a list of offerings made to deities in the Ekur: SpBTU 3 63 ii 3 (dgašan-⸢ti⸣la).
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or who was Gula all along.277 A cult of a goddess named Bēlet-balāṭi is corroborated at Neo-Babylonian Uruk, where she was considered a manifestation of Gula.278 From the Neo-Assyrian correspondence between scholarly, professional asûs and kings, one gets a sense that Bēlet-balāṭi was considered an aspect of Gula, the official patroness of the professional asûs. In conjunction with Ninurta, Gula was invoked in letters to the king by professional asûs, perhaps as the official goddess of the asûs in greeting formulae. Two letters give the impression that Bēlet-balāṭi was the aspect of Gula who was considered to do the actual healing.279 Once the asû Ikkaru wrote that Bēlet-balāṭi healed Šamaš-šumuukīn along with Bēl and Nabû; she is also invoked with these gods (but not Ninurta) in the greeting formula.280 In another letter, the deputy asû Banî281 invokes Gula and Ninurta in the greeting formula, but states that Bēlet-balāṭi, who is said to provide the king with a long life and good health for the king, healed Nabû-nādin-šumi together with Bēl and Nabû.282 3.3.1.3 Gula as asû/azugallatu, and Her Power over Life In the 1st millennium b.c.e., Gula carries a variety of epithets that focus on her ability to restore and maintain health. An epithet that she already carried in the late 2nd millennium b.c.e. is qāʾišat (napišti) balāṭi, “the one who grants
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Adad-nerari ii and Šamši-Adad v carried off Gula’s statue from Dēr (rima 3 A.0.103.2 iii 37b′–48′), but Esarhaddon returned Belet-balāṭi (rinap 4 Esarhaddon 48 rev. 94). A NeoAssyrian letter dating to the reign of Esarhaddon mentions that Gula is among deities from Dēr who arrived in Babylon (saa 18 18 obv. 11–rev. 2; see Meinhold 2009: 182). For the association between Gula and Ištarān, see paragraph 2.2.1. Beaulieu 2003: 312–313. Bēlet-balāṭi (dbe-let-ti-la) is among the gods of Uruk that were carried off to Assyria following Sennacherib’s conquest of Babylonia. rinap 3/1 Sennacherib 34: 32. Another Neo-Babylonian source is a literary letter written by the goddesss Bēletbalāṭi (be-let-din) to a Nuska-taqiša-uballiṭ, which may date back to the Middle Babylonian period; here the goddess was associated with Manungal, Borsippa, and the cult of Nabû (Grayson 1983: 143–145; Beaulieu 2003: 312; note the association with Nabû in saa 10 328 and 333, see below). Her fertility/sexual aspect is emphasized, not a role as healer. Bēlet-balāṭi occurs in conjunction with the relatively opaque goddess Kurunnītu (George 2000: 288; Beaulieu 2003: 312, 321–322), who is associated with Damu already in the late 2nd millennium b.c.e. (George 2000: 288; Beaulieu 2003: 321). this deity resides in the Gula temple according to the Nippur Compendium (George 1992: 158–159 Nippur Compendium v 14–17). See also George 1993b: 67–68, who states that Bēlet-balāṭi is the typical epithet for Gula in medical incantations. saa 10 328 obv. 6 and rev. 18. For Banî as the “deputy” (šanû ša rab asê), see pna 1/1: 264 and paragraph 6.3.5. saa 10 333 rev. 4.
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(the breath of) life”.283 Similar are nādinat bulṭī ana ili u amēli, “the one who gives healing remedies to god and man”,284 and nādinat balāṭi amēlūti, “the one who grants life to mankind”, which occurs in an incantation in which she brings the afflicted to the house of Asalluḫi.285 She is the mušēzibat napišti “the one who saves life” in bam 7 9 i 55 (Ms. K). Nebuchadnezzar ii liked to accentuate Gula’s ability to save his life and let him live long and healthily in the epithets ēṭirat gāmilat napištīya, “the one who saves and spares my life”, muṭībat šīrīya “who improves my health”, nāṣirat napištīya “who protects my life”, muballiṭat napištīya, “the one who keeps my life in good health”, and šuʾēti balāṭi, “the mistress of life”, the latter being reminisicent of the above-mentioned epithet bēlet balāṭi.286 Several of the verbs used in these epithets, namely bulluṭu, “to keep in good health, heal”, eṭēru “to save”, gamālu, “to spare”, and šūzubu “to rescue”, were also used to refer to her healing abilities and knowledge (as well as indirectly to that of asûs) in a Kassite seal as well as in the prayer Gula 1a:287 aš-šum bul-lu-ṭu u šul-lu-mu ba-šu-u₂ it-ti-ki aš-šum e-ṭe-ra ga-ma-la u šu-zu-ba ti-de-e Because reviving and healing are within your power, because you know how to save, to spare, and to rescue. These verbs do not only emphasize her omnipotent ability to cure and bring people back to life, but also refer to actions of human (scholarly) healers, who posed as her representatives on earth, and who claimed to have her knowledge.288 This is also reflected in her epithets “the great one, the one who understands sickness (mūdât murṣi)”, who is invoked to help a patient with his unknown illness,289 and most of all, in her titles asû/azugallatu. The latter
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285 286 287 288 289
im 90585 vi 7–8 (Livingstone 2006: 79; see paragraph 3.2.4.1); in 1st millennium b.c.e. sources in ib 18: 4 (see below) and Nbn. 8 vii 31′ (dgu-la qa-i-šat tin, Langdon 1912: 280; Schaudig 2001: 519, 526 [3.3a]; note that Nintinuga is mentioned a few lines earlier, see paragraph 4.4.2); bam 7 9: 53 (Ms. I and K). lka 17 obv. 13 (Seux 1976: 104), see below. This is reminiscent of the Gula Hymn of Bulluṭsa-rabi line 83, a-nam-din bul-ṭu a-na ba-ʾ-u₂-la-a-tu₂, “I give the healing remedies to mankind” (Lambert 1967b: 120–121), see Chapter 8. bam 574 ii 25 (=stomach 1 lines 86–92); Böck 2014: 105. Nbk 13 ii 41–42, 49; 15 iv 38–39, 53; 19 vi 10–11 (Langdon 1912: 108, 128, 130, 164). Lenzi 2011: 245. For the Kassite seal (Limet 1971: no. 8.14 [oip 47: no. 70; Stiehler-Alegria Delgado 1996: no. 236]); see paragraph 3.2.2. See paragraph 8.2. gal i₃-zu gig-ga ⸢ra-bi-tu₄ mu⸣-da-at mu-ur-ṣi, bam 7 9: 52 (Ms. I and K), and nu i₃!-zu
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demonstrates on the one hand her divine healing powers, and on the other hand draws a direct connection between her and the professional asûs. In her role as azugallatu rabītu, the “great azugallatu”, Gula protects people from evil. This can be seen in Maqlû 2 217, when she is invoked to defeat a witch,290 in a Bīt mēseri text, where she sits on the threshold and protects the inhabitants of a house from evil,291 and in a Late Babylonian incantation preserved on a tablet from the Royal Ontario museum that would have accompanied the ritual of fashioning a string of amulet stones.292 In the latter she appears alongside of Asalluḫi, the āšipu of the great gods, a dichotomy also found in a Late Babylonian text from Uruk, where she (as Meme) is juxtaposed to Marduk the āšipu.293 Similarly, in uet 6/2 393, an exerpt of an incantation, a demoness is warded off by Marduk, the apkallu of the gods, and Gula, the azugallatu.294 Gula the azugallatu received a royal dedicatory inscription dated to the reign of Adad-nārārī iii,295 and also after the Middle Babylonian period, she continued to be particularly prominent in curses. Gula’s curse formula known from kudurrus, in which she is called azugallatu rabītu (and often the wife of Ninurta), has parallels in 1st millennium b.c.e. colophons296 and royal treaties, namely Esarhaddon’s Treaty with Baal, King of Tyre and Esarhaddon’s Succession Treaty.297 Almost all gods took some form of health away and inflict illness
290 291 292 293 294
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š[u]-mu mu-ni-in-dab / mur-ṣi ⸢la⸣ i-du-u₂ qa-ti ṣab-ti, “help me (take my hand) with this unknown sickness!”, bam 7 9: 55 (only preserved on Ms. K = kar 73 rev. 17–18). Abusch 2016: 76, 303 (⸢dgu-la a⸣-zu-gal-la-tu gal-⸢tu⸣ is preserved on exemplar Sm. 695 iv 4′). ina muḫ-ḫi kun₄ aš₂-bat dgu-la a-zu-gal-la-tu₄ gal-tu₄, Meier 1941–1944: 146–147 line 114. dgu-la an-zu-gal-lat gal-ti, rom 910x209.531 obv. 7; Simkó and Stadhouders 2020, who discuss this unusual orthography. a-zu-un-gal-lat gal-tu₄, Campbell Thompson 1927: pl. 1 ii 28; Linssen 2004: 318–320. For Meme as a name for Gula, see paragraph 4.5. li-is-suḫ-ki-ma abgal dingir-meš damar-utu li-nak-kir₃-ki a-zu-gal-la-tu₄ dgu-la, “may Marduk the apkallu of the gods expel you, may the azugallatu Gula remove you”, uet 6/2 393: 13–14. d⸢gu-la⸣ a-zu-g[al]-l[a]-t[u₂] gal-tu₂ ḫi-rat qar-rad dingir-meš dumu dbad gaš-ri “Gula, great azugallatu, wife of the hero of the gods, mighty son of Enlil”, rima 3 A.0.104.2010: 7. The inscription is preserved on two colossal apotropaic lions from Til-Barsip erected by Šamšī-ilu, a field marshal under Adad-nārāri iii. Note that the king is not mentioned in this inscription. E.g. Hunger 1968: 78 no. 233 (kar 111 rev. 3–10; dgu-la a-zu-gal-la-tu gal-tu₄, line 6) and no. 236 (kar 252 iv 48–57; [dgu-l]a a-zu-gal-la-tu e₂-kur, line 54). saa 2 5 iv 3′–4′ and saa 2 6: 461–463 respectively. Watanabe 1987: 36–37 also mentions K 11264: 3 (Geers Heft A 23), which preserves […]-la-tu gal-tu, perhaps to be restored as [dgu-la a-zu-gal]-la-tu gal-tu, and parts of the curse.
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on its transgressors in these royal curses. But Gula the azugallatu, who could both cure and cause illness, retained her signature curse, in which she is said to inflict incurable diseases on the cursed, letting them bathe in blood and pus like water for the rest of their lives. A variation of this curse with Gula the azugallatu may also occur on a Neo-Assyrian amulet with a dedication text.298 Gula is also invoked in the curse formula of a document dating to the 2nd year of early Neo-Babylonian king Marduk-balāssu-iqbi,299 not as azugallatu, but as a life-giving yet life-taking goddess with connection to the Otherworld. In this text she is mentioned with several deities from Nippur and is called queen of the Netherworld (šar-rat arali) and “the one who controls/directs the Land of no Return” (a-ši-rat kur nu-gi4).300 Through Gula’s control of the Arali and the kur-nu-gi4, her marginal and ambiguous character and her proximity to both life and death, namely as the one who can restore life and has control over the dead, is stressed. Gula is regularly mentioned in healing context in the 1st millennium b.c.e., and in several medical texts and incantations she is called asû or azugallatu.301 In ctmma 2 30 and its parallels, Gula is the asât tenīšēti, “the asû (asâtu) of the people”, whose healing spell and touch means life, or in other words, it can cure (any) illness.302 This reference to her touch is reminiscent of the epithet šuḫal-bi, an epithet of healing goddesses associated with Gula.303 Gula appears here also in conjunction with Asalluḫi, who as muballiṭ mīti revives the dead, appeases the sick and fights off all bringers of disease. The touch of Gula’s hands plays an important role in K 6057+ iii 1′–28′ as well,304 an incantation of Damu and Gula which is also reminiscent of a simmū 298 299 300 301
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bm 118796 rev. 26–27 (dgu-la a-⸢zu⸣-gal-la-ti); Postgate 1987. A 33600 [4nt 3], courtesy of John A. Brinkman and Grant Frame, who will publish the text. A 33600 [4nt 3]: 33′–34′. Because this work’s main purpose is to look for direct parallels drawn between Gula and asûs, this section will bring to the fore the entries that are most significant to the association between Gula and asûs. Böck (2014: 78), who treats 8 incantations of “Gula” (one of them only mentions Ninisina), stresses that there are about 350 “healing spells” in the corpus of medical texts, and that only a few are directed to the healing goddess. Böck (2014: 78) states that she did not take into consideration incantations of Gula that “are found in unspecified medical context or have a religious setting”. dgu-la a-sa-a-ti te-ni-še-e-ti tu-ka bul-ṭu li-pit-ka šul-me, ctmma 2 30 obv. 1–2, with parallels bm 42454+ obv. 1–2 and bm 42399 obv. 1–2 (Finkel 2000: 201–202 with fig. 55 and 56; 2005: 157–159; Böck 2014: 94–98). See Chapter 4. A photograph of the tablet is published on the cdli website http://cdli.ucla.edu/dl/photo/ P396340.jpg (visited on 1 July 2017); edited by Böck 2014: 113, who only lets the incantation go till line 10′.
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maʾdū, with a list of different diseases. Gula, who is called asât (ilāni rabûti?) here,305 provides relief by using her soothing hands, as she works together again with Asalluḫi, who casts his incantation of life, to eradicate disease together.306 Her soothing, gentle hands she also uses in the 1st millennium b.c.e. Muššuʾu 4/a, in which she is juxtaposed to Damu.307 This female version of Asalluḫi’s epithet muballiṭ mīti, namely muballiṭat mīti, is applied to Gula in incantations preserved on bam 431 iii′ 47–52 and bam 7 9 i 39–41.308 This role, normally that of Nintinuga, emphasizes her ability to provide healing on a divine level as she can even bring the dead to life.309 bam 7 9 i 39–41 also seems to refer to Gula providing a healing šammu-potion, a treatment commonly used by asûs.310 Gula heals more often with the šammu, or even the “šammu of life” (šammu balāṭi) in U 30655, a Late Babylonian incantation against dog bites.311 In this incantation she is called asâtu, bārâtu, and muballiṭatu and knows incantations and cures for dog bites. Incantation bam 7 9 ii 9′–17′ is quite similar: she carries almost the same epithets, also specializes in incantations and cures, with which she surpasses all,312 and provides šammu
305 306 307
308
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a-⸢sa-at⸣ [ilāni rabûti?], K 6057+ iii 1′; see Böck 2014: 113. [i-n]am-di dasal-lu₂-ḫi ši-pat-su ša₂ ba-la₂-ṭi / u₂-šap-ša₂-aḫ dgu-la ina šuii-ša₂ ša₂ te-ni-ihḫu / gig-meš i-na-as-sa-ḫu ina sa-meš-šu₂, K 6057+ iii 7′–9′, see Böck 2014: 28, 113. Muššuʾu 4/a line 6–7 exemplar F (bm 45405+ obv. 4: […] ⸢dgu-la⸣ ina rab-ba-a-tu₄ šuii-šu₂ d⸢da⸣-m[u …], Böck 2007: 150–151, Table xvi). This is a role of Ninkarrak in the Old Babylonian forerunners lb 1000 and ct 42 32; see paragraph 8.1. [mu-b]al-liṭ-at ad₆, bam 431 iii 49; at-ti-ma mu-bal-li-ṭa-at a[d₆], “you are the one who revives the dead”, bam 7 9 Ms. i i 14′. Steinert (2014: 360 n. 8) and Panayotov (2014: 47) correct the reading by Böck (2014: 89), who reads at-ti-ma dingir-maḫ mu-bal-li-ṭa-at a[d₆]. Note that Böck (2008: 311–316; 2014: 88–90) treats bam 431 iii 47–52, bam 430 iii 46′–47′, and bam 7 9: 39–41 (Ms. i i 14′–16′) as duplicates, which is misleading, as bam 430 iii 46′– 47′ preserves only a few fragmentary lines and the incipits of the three texts are different (Steinert 2014: 360 n. 8; Panayotov 2014: 47–48). Panayotov (2014: 47–48) points out that the incipit of the incantation preserved on bam 431 rather resembles that of the šuillaprayer Mayer 1976 Gula 1a mentioned in paragraph 3.3.1.4. Mayer 1976 Gula 6 (stt 73 and parallels) has the incipit iltu rēmēnītu muballiṭat ad₆ (see also Reiner 1960: 32–33; Seux 1976: 483–485; Butler 1998: 351–352, 364–366), but this incantation does not mention the name of the goddess to whom it is directed. See paragraph 4.4. šam-m[u … ]-nu igi-bar-ma nag-šu lib-luṭ, “the šammu […] look at […]? and may the one who drinks it recover”, bam 7 9 i 40 (Ms. i i 15′); the reading šam-m[u] was suggested by Böck 2014: 89. Compare also bam 431 iii 50–51. [tu₆-du₁₁]-ga u₃ bul-lu-ṭu zu₂-ku₅ mu-da-a-ti, U 30655: 2, Finkel 1999: 221–223; Böck 2014: 90–92. See also Del Olmo Lete 2014: 3 n. 10. ša tu₆-du₁₁-ga-⸢šu⸣ bul-lu-ṭu šu-tu-rat, “who is supreme in spells and healing”, bam 7 9 ii 10′ (Ms. K [kar 73] obv. 25; Ms. J ii 10′). Böck 2008: 308–310; 2014: 87.
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and šammu balāṭi.313 She further is great in asûtu, a qualification that could be used for mundane healers as well, and she is the healer (muballiṭat) of her worshiper.314 It mentions that her name is exalted by the command of Bau, which shows that the two were still perceived as separate characters.315 The preceding incantation bam 7 9 ii 1′–8′ is probably also directed to Gula: her name is not preserved, but in line 1′ the epithet [a-z]u-gal-la-tu₂ ṣir-tu₂, “exalted azugallatu”, is legible. She provides healing knowledge to the humans who do not understand the illness as well as the right medication (šammu) to heal the patient. Gula’s skills in the art of asûtu is also emphasized in igi 1, in an incantation against foreign objects in the eye, in which she is called the bēlet asûti who cast a spell that is consecutively carried out by the performing healer.316 The incantation calls for illness-causing objects such as splinters to leave the eyes before the ṣurru and naglabu of Gula will reach them.317 Gula the asût ilāni rabûti, “asû of the great gods”,318 is also mentioned with other medical instruments, the karṣillu and masdaru,319 on the reverse of ctn 4 116 (= bam 580 ii′), which contains an incantation against simmu. Knives used in medicine were more often associated with Gula, most visibly in Neo-Assyrian iconography, as well as with asûs; the claim of the latter on certain instruments will be discussed in paragraph 8.3.
313 314 315 316
317 318 319
bam 7 9 ii 14′–17′ (Ms. K [kar 73] obv. 29–32); see also Watanabe 1994: 589–590; Böck 2008: 309; 2014: 87. Compare also bam 7 9 ii 1′–8′, see below. gal-at a-su-tu₂ mu-bal-li-ṭa-at dgu-la pa-liḫ₂-ša₂(sic!), bam 7 9 ii 11′ (Ms. K [kar 73] obv. 25– 26; Ms. J ii 11′). Böck 2008: 309, 329; 2014: 87. bam 7 9 ii 12′ (Ms. K [kar 73] obv. 27; see also Ms. J ii 12′). See also Böck 2008: 309; 2014: 87; Meinhold 2009: 296. For Bau, see paragraph 4.3. dgu-la ⸢en⸣ [a]-⸢zu⸣-ti i-di-ma ana-ku aš₂-ši, “Gula, the mistress of asûtu, cast (a spell) and I carried (it) out”, bam 510 iv 39 (// bam 514 iv 44′, = igi 1 192′, Geller and Panayotov 2020: 104–105). See also bm 79125: 9–10 (Finkel 1999: 215–216). For this type of spell, see Lambert 2008: 93. See also Panayotov 2018: 90 n. 6. For this passage, see Fincke 2000: 207–208, 297; Geller 2010: 93–94; Panayotov 2017: 225–226. igi 1 190′–191′ (ṣur-ru nag-la-bu ša₂ dgu-la, bam 510 iv 37–38 // ṣur-ru u nag-la-bu [ša dgul]a, bam 514 iv 42′–43′); Geller and Panayotov 2020: 104–105. ctn 4 116 rev. 20′ ([a-s]u-ut dingir-dingir gal-gal) = bam 580 ii′ 16′ (dgu-l]a a-su-ut dingirm[eš …]). For Gula, see also ctn 4 116 rev. 24′ and bam 580 ii′ 21′. kar-ṣil-ki u maš-⸢dar₃⸣-ki, ctn 4 116 rev. 21′ (= bam 580 ii′ 17′, which only preserves kar-ṣ[ilki …]). For the reading masdaru, see Stol 2007b: 238. See further Stol 1991–1992: 63; Geller 2000: 336–339; Böck 2014: 112. Note that Geller 2000: 338 reads maš-⸢ṭar⸣-ki, “your prescription”; for the discussion of the confusion between masdaru and mašṭaru, see Chaper 8. In the Göttertypentext, Damu, the attribute of Gula, also carries a karṣillu (Köcher 1953: 64 i 12′; Wiggermann 2011b: 298; Gula also has a laḫmu in this text [78 v 45], see Wiggermann 2018: 367–368). For the karṣillu and masdaru as instruments of Gula and asûs, see paragraph 8.3.3.
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It is likely that Gula is also the goddess called azugallatu in simmū maʾdū šumīšunu ul īde (“there are so many skin afflictions; I do not know their names!”) incantation K 6057+ ii 29–41.320 This incantation, which is called enūma Anu irḫû erṣetim, “When Anu Impregnated the Earth”, states that when the gods decided the fates, they appointed a goddess, whose name is not preserved, the great queen (šarrātu rabītu), the azugallatu, to perhaps heal the bodily cords (manānu).321 Since these epithets almost exclusively applied to Gula, it is likely that this refers to her. Also in a text from Uruk, perhaps a scribal exercise that may carry the introduction of a mythological text, Gula the asû (a-zu) is part of a group of major Babylonian gods.322 In bam 322: 74–75,323 Gula is the asû who removes evil and appeases, purifies, and cleanses the patient. In this text, the emphasis lies thus heavily on purifying practices. Another source that emphasizes Gula’s knowledge of healing arts without explicitly calling her asû or azugallatu is colophon q of Assurbanipal preserved on texts from his library. In it he claims that he, unlike other kings, copied and assembled “the medical prescriptions from the top of the head to the (toe)nails (bulṭī ištu muḫḫi adi ṣupri) and collections of extraneous material, complicated lore, the azugallūtu of Ninurta and Gula, as much as had been invented”.324 This colophon labels medical texts, in particular bulṭū, “medical prescriptions, remedies”, as special knowledge and lore of professional asûs and of the supreme divine asû/azugallatu Gula and her spouse Ninurta—as well as of the king.325
320
321
322 323 324
325
Edited by Böck 2014: 110–111 (see also page 24); a photograph of the tablet is published on the cdli website (https://cdli.ucla.edu/dl/photo/P396340.jpg visited on January 10, 2020); for this incantation see also paragraph 8.3.3. [dgu-la šar]-ra-tu₄ gal-tu₄ na-bu-u₂ [šu₂-nu] [dgu-la] a-zu-gal-la-tu₄ ma-na-na [x x (x)], “[They] called [Gula] great [qu]een, [Gula], the azugallatu, the cords [ ]”, K 6057+ ii 31– 32. See also Böck 2014: 110–111. The incantation contains elements from folk and holistic traditions (i.e. diseases falling down, striking like lightning and coming forth like weeds) as well as hegemonic and theistic notions (i.e. the ordering of the world according to the allocation of šīmtus, “destinies”). SpBTU 3 60 obv. 13. [en]-tu₄ gu-la a-zu ša₂ ḫul zi-zi ša₃-zu ⸢ḫe₂⸣-en-ḫun-ga₂ bar-zu šed₇-de₃ ḫe₂-en-ku₃-⸢ga⸣ ḫe₂-en-sikil-la ⸢ḫe₂⸣-en-⸢dadag⸣-ga, Böck 2014: 79 n. 8. Bulṭī ištu muḫḫi adi ṣupri liqtī aḫûti tāḫīzu nakla azugallūti Ninurta u Gula mala bašmu. Assurbanipal colophon type q; Hunger 1968: 103 no. 329: 2–8. See further for instance Ritter 1965: 300; Geller 2018a: 49; Panayotov 2018: 108–110; Steinert 2018a: 173; Geller and Panayotov 2020: 151. See Chapter 8.
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Gula is furthermore invoked in pious phrases or curses in colophons of texts with medical content, written by asûs. CMAwR 7.18 (kal 2 9), an early Neo-Assyrian ritual/Ušburruda incantation is copied by an apprentice asû who had a name with Gula as the theophoric element,326 and Ninurta and Gula are invoked in a curse in the colophon to protect the inscription from being altered.327 Also in kadp 11, the 2nd tablet of Uruanna, a scribal list of (medicinal) plants, of which the colophon ends in [nir-gal₂]-zu nu ur ⸢x⸣ [x] dgu-la, “the one who trusts in you will not come to shame, … oh Gula!”328 The same saying may be used in colophon of the Aššur Medical Catalogue, which was written by an apprentice asû.329 Gula (as Meme) also occurs in the colophon of medical commentary SpBTU 1 47 rev. 6′: pa-liḫ dme-me li₆(he₂)šaₓ(di)-qirₓ(ka), “May a man who respects Gula (Meme) hold (this tablet) in esteem”.330 Also in a few prayers and hymns, Gula is called asû. Gula is praised as the asât amēlūti, “asû of mankind”, in the fragmentary hymn lka 18,331 and as azugallatu who has no rival, the nādinat bulṭī ana ili u amēli, “the one who gives healing remedies to god and man”, and bēltu ša balāṭi, “mistress of health” in the hymn lka 17.332 In a votive inscription to Gula that is inscribed on the torso of the
326 327 328 329
330
331
332
⸢x⸣-ru-dgu-la ⸢lu₂⸣šaman₂-la₂ lu₂⸢a-zu⸣ a-g[a-aš-gu-u], CMAwR 7.18: 37′′ (kal 2 9 rev. 16′). [nīš(?)] ⸢d⸣maš! u dgu-la mu ⸢sar⸣ nu kur₂, “(by?) Ninurta and Gula, do not change my inscription!”, CMAwR 7.18: 40′′ (kal 2 9 rev. 19′). kadp 11 rev. 50–51. This phrase is quite common (Hunger 1968: 178), although it mostly occurs with Nabû. Aššur Medical Catalogue colophon lines 127 and 129 (preserved on ybc 7123 rev. 8′, 10′): ⸢x⸣ ⸢x⸣ lu₂(erasure)a-zu tur … [tākil-ki ul ibâš?] dgu-la. Steinert (2018a: 179; 2018b: 219, 278), based her restoration of the plea to Gula on similar colophons such as kadp 11 iv 50–51 (Hunger 1968 no. 246: 10; note that this line is preserved on kadp 11 iv 50–51, which is Hunger’s version A: Hunger thus mixed up the versions). The name of the scribe could not be identified (Steinert 2018b: 219, 278, who collated the tablet; compare May 2018: 71, who collated acording to a photograph). Frahm 2011: 232–233, 398, 400, 404 (compare also SpBTU 1 51 rev. 20–21: pa-liḫ [dgu-la] liša₂-qir, which according to Frahm 2011: 234 should be restored as Gula, and not as Anu as suggested by Hunger). Compare also the colophon of extispicy commentary Ashm. 1924.492; Frahm 2011: 178. bu-nu-ti da-nim a-⸢sa-ta nam⸣-[lu₂-tu] … dgu-la a-sa-ta [nam-lu₂-tu], “creation of Anu, asû of man[kind] … Gula, asû [of mankind]”, lka 18 obv. 1 and 4; see also Borger 1957–1958: 113 n. 1. [d]gu-la a-zu-gal-⸢la⸣-tu₂ ša₂-⸢nin⸣-ki ia-ʾ-⸢nu⸣, lka 17 obv. 7; na-din-at bul-ṭu ana ⸢dingir u₃ lu₂⸣ gašan ša₂ ti-la i-ša₂-su-[ki], lka 17 obv. 13—for this reading, see Seux 1976: 104; the line begins with a reference to dogs (ur-gi₇-meš), see also Seux 1976: 104. For lka 17, see further Ebeling 1954: 345–350; Seux 1976: 103–106; Foster 2005: 668–670. Bau may be mentioned in this incantation as well, see paragraph 4.3.2.
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earlier mentioned Neo-Babylonian clay dog found at Isin (ib 18), she bears the epithets azugallatu as well as qāʾišat napišti balāṭi, “the one who provides the breath of life”.333 Most famously, the Gula Hymn of Bulluṭsa-rabi also calls her asû.334 This 200-line hymn is divided into 20 sections in which Gula gives various names to herself and her spouse Ninurta.335 The hymn is directed to Gula, but it must be stated that she is closely associated with Ninkarrak. One exemplar dedicates the prayer with which the hymn ends to Ninkarrak,336 and their names are also confused in the Ninkarrak section, which is the Gula section according to one witness.337 In 10 sections, Gula describes herself in the first person, ending with one of her names. The names are Nintinuga, Nimadiriga,338 Nanše, Ninkarrak, Ninigizibara, Bau, Ungal-Nibru, Gula, Ninsun, and Ninlil. These sections generally emphasize the exaltedness of the goddess among the gods, her greatness and loftiness, and her relationship to her spouse. Her healing qualities are only mentioned in the paragraphs in which the deity is called Gula, Ninigizibara, and Ninlil, and in these three sections she calls herself asû (asâku, “I am an asû”) or refers to her having been granted asûtu.339 As asû, she car-
333
334
335
336
337 338
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a-⸢zu-gal⸣-la-at ⸢x-(x-)x⸣-ti qa-i-ša-at na-ap-ša-⸢at⸣ ba-⸢la-ṭi₃⸣, ib 18: 4 (Wilcke 2018: 62 no. 96, 187 [copy]; see also Edzard and Wilcke in Hrouda 1977: 90; Livingstone 1988: 59– 60; see also Braun-Holzinger 1999: 150–151). The object was found above the ramp built by Adad-apla-iddina i (Edzard and Wilcke in Hrouda 1977: 43, 90 [“Nordabschnitt i”; on top of the plaster]). See also Livingstone 1988: 59–60 and paragraph 3.3.1. Lambert 1967b; new exemplars have recently been published by George and Taniguchi 2019 (nos. 57–62) and Földi in Jiménez et al. 2019: 81–83, 86–90. See also Lenzi 2008a: 98 n. 171. Rulings in the texts divide these 20 sections, but not in each manuscript do the rulings correspond with the division between sections (however they seem to correspond in manuscript a), nor are the rulings similarly placed in each manuscript (Lambert 1967b: 106, 115). Examplar A calls the goddess Gula (Ashm. 1938.620: 197, dgu-la); Exemplar E calls the goddess Ninkarrak (Neo-Assyrian tablet K 3225+6321 iv 10′, [d]nin-kar-ra-ak; Gula is mentioned in line 148; the Ninkarrak section (line 67) is not preserved on this exemplar). Exemplar F (K 13320), Lambert 1967b: 120 (dgu-la), Table xvi. In George and Taniguchi 2019: no. 58 the name is dnin-⸢kar-ra⸣-[ak]; on no. 60 the name is not legible. Lambert copied the signs of this divine name (line 25), but did not reach a conclusion on how to understand the name (Nin-…, Lambert 1967b: 109, 117–118). The reading of the name as Ninmadiriga (⸢dnin⸣-ma₂-diri-ga) is confirmed by Földi and Heinrich in Jiménez et al. 2019: 83–89. Why Ninlil and Ninigizibara is unclear: Ninlil had no specific healing role, and Ninigizibara belonged to Inanna/Ištar’s circle and was also not normally associated with Gula or healing (for Ninigizibara, see also Heimpel 2000; Böck 2014: 131).
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ries all healing plants (šammu), along with a bag (tukannu) containing incantations of life, medical texts, and bandages (riksu and ṣindu), and provides mankind with healing remedies (bulṭū), which are closely associated with professional asûs.340 She heals illness, and in this, brings people back to life.341 Also in the Ninlil section,342 she carries a bag (tukannu) with instruments (naglabu and quppû) with which she opens and heals wounds. She brings the dead back to life, proclaims asâku, “I am an asû”, and, like in lka 17, calls herself bēltu ša balāṭu.343 There is a hint to written knowledge in this paragraph, as she mentions her cuneiform writing (santakku).344 This is also the case in the Gula section, where she is the goddess who received her healing knowledge, the asûtu, the secret of the gods, from Ea through writing—in this case, asûtu clearly carries the meaning of written knowledge.345 Her ability to heal is furthermore brought to the fore in the Bau section, where she gives life,346 and the Nintinuga section, which stresses her chthonic character and her provision of šulum balāṭu liptu šulmu “sound health and a healing touch”.347 The prayer at the end of this hymn is for the benefit of Bulluṭsa-rabi, who is the (human) author of the hymn, and whose name means “her curing is great”. The text has been found on more than twenty fragments dating from the Neo-Assyrian to Late Babylonian period,348 and the colophon of one fragment (bm 34655+45718), dating to Seleucid or Parthian Babylon,349 records that the scribe of the text was a young apprentice āšipu.350 Moreover, it is found in the Catalogue of Texts and Authors as an important scholarly work, in which
340 341 342 343 344 345 346 347 348 349 350
See Chapter 8. Lambert 1967b: 120–121 (lines 79–91) and George and Taniguchi 2019: no. 57 (lines 79–83), no. 58 (lines 79–91). Lambert 1967b: 126–129 (lines 178–187) and the fragment published by George and Taniguchi 2019 (no. 59, lines 180–183). Lambert 1967b: 128–129 (lines 182–183) and George and Taniguchi 2019: no. 59 (poorly preserved). Lambert 1967b: 128–129 line 184. Lambert 1967b: 124–125 lines 144–146, see also Lenzi 2008a: 98–99; for a discussion, see Chapter 8. a-na pa-li-ḫi-ia a-qa-šu₂ ba-la₂-ṭi, “to him who fears me I give life,” Lambert 1967b: 122–123 line 107. Lambert 1967b: 116–117, lines 1–8; see also George and Taniguchi 2019: no. 58 (lines 1–8); see further Chapter 8. Lambert 1967b: 105–106, 115; to this can be added George and Haniguchi 2019: nos. 57–62 and the fragments identified and edited by Földi in Jiménez et al. 2019: 81–83, 86–90. See also Oelsner 1986: 209. lu₂ša₂-mal₂-le-e maš-maš a-ga-aš-gu₂, see Hunger 1968: 126 no. 435.
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Bulluṭsa-rabi as author also is called āšipu.351 The text has no connections to āšipūtu,352 but the interest of āšipus to copy it must be a result of it being an important part of the training of scholarly, professional healers throughout the 1st millennium b.c.e. The role that this hymn and its portrayal of Gula’s character played in the shaping of the identity of professional healers will be discussed in paragraph 8.2. Other sources in which Gula is not explicitly called asû may nevertheless reflect the mundane preparations of medicine by asûs, such as in the incantation en₂ batqat nāru, preserved on bm 98584+.353 Here Gula is invoked in addition to Ningirima, and prepares medicines, cooking a mash of beer bread and seed of the papparḫû plant over a fire.354 This will be discussed in paragraph 8.2. Lastly, a connection between Gula and asûs may be established through incantations that plead to Gula to grant a patient life and promise that she will receive a gift afterwards, with the following exclamation:355 Gula bulliṭīma qīštaki liqī tê šipti Gula, grant me life, and accept your gift! This gift may be a gift to Gula, but also a one to the professional asûs who acted in her name, as is alluded to in 2nd millennium b.c.e. equivalents discussed in paragraph 3.2.4.1, that mention that the scholars receive the gift. This will also be discussed in Chapter 8, which will thoroughly analyze the legitimization processes that drove the strong connection between Gula and professional asûs that has already been touched upon in this chapter.
351 352 353 354
355
Lambert 1962: 66 v 3–5 = vi 1–2; 1967b: 107. Lambert 1967b: 108; Lenzi 2008a: 98. Geller 2010b: 65; Steinert 2013: 11–13; Böck 2014: 101–104. On a Middle Assyrian seal (Parker 1974: 185–187, fig. 1) a female figure and a dog appear in a shelter similar to the one known from sickbed scenes (see paragraph 5.2.5). The woman is holding a circular object over fire, and Parker interprets this action as bread making (kamān tumri). Considering the reed structure and the presence of a dog, it is worth reconsidering whether the figure’s actions could have a healing nature, perhaps the preparation of medication (see also Wee 2014: 34–35), such as the one described in bm 98584+: 18. For the intersection between cooking and preparing medicine, see Chapter 5. E.g. igi 1 95′ and 107′ (Geller and Panayotov 2020: 81, 83–84, 86); for these phrases, see further paragraph 8.2.
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3.3.1.4
Gula as Other Healers: The Domestic, Motherly Healer and Midwife Even though Gula had become a professional asû, she still had motherly and midwifery traits, as she clearly had in earlier periods. Gula is placed in the domestic domain when she is the protector of the house from evil, as for instance is demonstrated in a Namburbi against the evil of a fungus (katarru) in the house.356 Gula acted as a mother, midwife and/or nursemaid in pregnancyrelated rituals and incantations, in particular to bring a baby to full term357 and to stop bleeding during pregnancy,358 along with the calming down or protecting of babies, a practice that is deeply rooted in motherhood and the domestic domain.359 Her role as a mother (ummu) is further emphasized in personal names such as Gula-ummī,360 and in epithets with ummu. In Muššuʾu 5/a, Ninisina the ama kalam-ma, “mother of the land”, is translated in Akkadian as Ninkarrak, the ummu māti, “mother of the land”, but on one exemplar, the goddess is called Gula.361 The title asû does not occur in this incantation. Also in the above-mentioned šuilla-prayer Gula 1a with the incipit Gula bēltu šurbûtu ummu rēmēnītu āšibat šamê ellūti “Gula, exalted lady, merciful mother, who dwells in the pure heavens”,362 her role as mother as well as (scholarly) healer is emphasized.363 Like in Mayer 1976 Gula 1b,364 she is portrayed as a compassionate mother who intercedes before Marduk and angry personal gods on behalf of her worshipers,365 and in this capacity she is also depicted on 1st
356 357 358 359
360 361 362
363 364 365
Maul 1994: 355–366 (viii.10) lines 22–23, 91–92; Scurlock 2003. SpBTU 5 248 rev. 12′–13′ in which a censer is placed before him, and obv. 1–18, an incantation of Damu and Gula (Scurlock 2014: 684, 686, 688, 690). SpBTU 4 129: 16′ (with Ištar, Šamaš and Bēlet-ilī), see Steinert 2017a: 318–319. Farber 1989: 42–43, 166 (Kuyunjik-Kompendium §2 °42 [K 9171+]), 88–87, 166–167 (§ 25, °369), 98–99 (§32, 13); Lam. 3 34 (Gula; variant Meme; Farber 1989: 68–73; 2014: 132, 186– 187); “sks” lines 12, 17 (Farber 1989: 104–105 §34; 2014: 271–272, 300–301 [Gula, variant Meme—association between dogs and Gula]). pna 1/2: 430. bm 46276+ obv. 1 (⸢dgu⸣-la), Muššuʾu 5/a line 1 (A), Böck 2007: 184. Mayer 1976 Gula 1a; Seux 1976: 337–339; Mullo-Weir 1929: 1–4; Foster 2005: 671–672; Ambos 2013; Lenzi 2011: 243–256; 2013 (bm 38537); Stadhouders and Johnson 2018: 580, 604 (bm 78963: 60–65, paragraph 15c). The epithet returns in line 7. For a similar incipit, see bam 431 iii 47–49 (Böck 2008: 314; 2014: 89; Panayotov 2014: 47–48). For the verbs used in this prayer representing scholarly healing, see paragraph 8.2. See also Mullo-Weir 1929: 1–7; Foster 2005: 671–672, Abusch 1987: 26–27; 2018: 64, 76–77. Note that K 232+3371+13776 (George and Taniguchi 2019: 63–65 no. 63; Mullo-Weir 1929: 9– 18), in which Ninisina intercedes before Marduk, is a Ninisina hymn, and not a Gula hymn, as her name does not occur in this text (it is also not a Marduk hymn as suggested by Böck 2014: 10 n. 13), see paragraph 4.2.2.
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millennium b.c.e. seals.366 The Sumerian equivalent of ummu rēmi/rēmēnītu, ama arḫuš, which besides its meaning “merciful mother” also bears the connotations of healing and midwifery, is an epithet she shares with other healing goddesses.367 A significant relationship between Gula and infants and young children that could be derived from her role as midwife and mother is the affliction called “Hand of Gula”, which could cause illness and death in infants and children.368
3.4
Conclusion
In the course of the 2nd millennium b.c.e., the cult of the healing goddess Gula, who was not tied to one specific center, spread throughout Babylonia and was introduced to Assyria, and she traveled with the scholarly curriculum to the periphery. By the late 2nd millennium b.c.e. she had become a full-blown healing deity in Babylonia and Assyria who obtained a major role
366 367
368
E.g. Delaporte bn 355. Ninisina and Bau were already called (ama) arḫuš in the Ur iii and Old Babylonian periods, see paragraphs 4.3 and 4.4, where the midwifery connotations of the epithet are discussed. In the 1st millennium b.c.e., (ama) arḫuš, or ummu rēmi/rēmēnītu had become associated with Gula, Ninisina and Ninkarrak (in addition to Ninisina as amaarḫuš kalam-ma in bam 124 iii 60; see also ama-arḫuš-šu: dmin [= dgu-la] e₂-eš-bar; ao 8196 iv 44 [List of Seven Gulas]; Weidner 1959–1960: 110; parallels with kar 142 ii 37, ct 46 52; and dama-arḫuš: dmin [= Ninkarrak] um-mu re-ma-ni-tu₂; von SpBTU 3 109 rev. 14). See further an=Anum 5 124–124a (Litke 1998: 179), in which Enanun is described as the amaarḫuš/ummu rēmi of Gula (ama-arḫuš dgu-la-[ke₄] = um-mi re-mi dmin), see also Chapter 3 footnote 6. Ama-arḫuš normally does not in the onomasticon, but may appear as a name in Hellenistic Uruk personal names (McEwan 1981b: 188), perhaps for Gula, who is withped at Uruk at the time. Late Babylonian Uruk text SpBTU 3 84 rev. 79–97 (Farber 2014: 36; Böck 2014: 24 n. 88; Steinert 2016b: 245; 2018b: 269–270; Heeßel 2018: 138); for the Hand of Gula (sometimes written dme-me) in Sakikkû (6: 19; 12 iv 16; 13 i 55′; 33: 103–106; 40: 5, 61, 76–101, 114, 118), inflicting children’s afflictions as well as blood discharging from nose, eyes and ears, painful body parts (belly, pelvis), the (skin) diseases sāmānu, ašû, ṣītu, ṣarrišu, šadānu, ṣinnaḫ ṭīri, and bušʾānu, see Finkel 1988: 147; Volk 1999: 10–30; Heeßel 2000: 16, 76–98, 357–358, 363–366; 2018: 137; Böck 2014: 23, 33, 54–69; 2015a: 330; Scurlock 2014: 51–54, 97, 101, 112, 235, 240, 258–271; Schmidtchen 2018a: 140, 152; 2018b: 315; Steinert 2014: 360; 2018b: 229–230. Gula is mentioned more often than other deities in Sakikkû 40, which is dedicated to infant diseases (Böck 2014: 62–63; Steinert 2014: 360). The Hand of Gula also occurs in Šumma ālu (Tablet 21 line 99, Freedman 1998: 313; see also Heeßel 2018: 144). For dispelling the wrath of Gula, see stt 95+295 lines 63–69 (Scurlock 2014: 651, 654, 660); see also bam 375 ii 38; 376 i 13′; for sorcery performed against someone before Gula, see CMAwR 10.3: 82′′ (bam 449 iii 26′; Scurlock 2014: 641–643).
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in the national pantheon and was significant in royal ideology and cult in her own right, not just as the wife of Ninurta. Moreover, she seems to have importance to the general population, who offered to her and invoked her in personal names, incantations and votives to ask for her divine intervention. She was the bringer and taker of life, who could heal any illness yet also afflict endlessly festering skin afflictions (simmu lazzu), leaving the cursed to bathe in pus and blood. In the 1st millennium b.c.e., Gula had grown to be a major goddess in the royal cult and ideology of both Assyria and Babylonia, and continued to be worshiped until the Late Babylonian period. From the late 2nd millennium b.c.e. on, she was strongly associated with healing and most conspicuously with asûs. She carried the title asû/azugallatu in many different text genres, was the patron goddess of professional asûs in the greeting formulae of letters, and was described and depicted as the one handling the instruments of professional asûs and authorizing and performing their healing practices.
chapter 4
Gula Compared to Other Healing Goddesses This chapter will discuss other female divine manifestations of healing that were associated with Gula. Their origin, cults, characters, households, and idiosyncracies, and their connection with asûs will be described, in order to understand what makes them different or similar to Gula, and how the individual healing goddesses related to healing in the earthly realm, in particular the healing performed by asûs.
4.1
Ninkarrak
4.1.1 Ninkarrak: The Name The meaning of the initially Sumerian sounding name Ninkarrak remains obscure. Different orthographies of the divine name Ninkarrak through time are recorded,1 and the most common writing in later periods, dnin-kar-ra-ak, did not occur until the early 2nd millennium b.c.e. In the earliest confirmed attestation of Ninkarrak, in an Old Akkadian treaty between an Elamite ruler and Narām-Sîn, her name is written dnin-kar-ak.2 Her name could also be written nin-kar;3 the name dnin-kar already appears in the Early Dynastic Abu Sal-
1 See also Westenholz 2010: 378–379. 2 mdp 11 88 i 20 (Konig 1965: 3; Hinz 1967: 91). 3 Westenholz (2010: 379–380) states that in the majority of Old Akkadian cases, the deity written dnin-kar is to be understood as Ninkarrak (see also Kraus 1951: 64). However, she based this on Old Babylonian sources, which only confirms that dnin-kar was certainly a Old Babylonian orthography. Cavigneaux and Krebernik (2000) postulate that Nin-kar is an earlier version of written (d)nin-kar(2)(-ra), a deity not to be confused with Ninkarrak (this Ninkar was a very different character than Ninkarrak: she was associated with daylight and the goddess Ajja, the spouse of Šamaš [an=Anum 3 126]). Although it is possible that this is the case for some of the 3rd millennium bce attestations of (d)nin-kar (e.g. Abu Salabikh god list ias 82: 58 [rev. iii 14]; Mander 1986: 7); for an overview see Cavigneaux and Krebernik 2000: 440), the identification of Ninkar with Ninkarrak is confirmed for the Old Babylonian period, namely in Old Babylonian Narām-Sîn inscriptions rime 2.1.4.3 and 5. Because the group of deities in these texts is the same, it can be concluded that dnin-kar and dnin-kar-ak are two different writings for one and the same deity. The fact that Ninkar follows the day demon Ūm in rime 2.1.4.3 ex. 2 also speaks for the idenification with Ninkarrak, as these two were invoked together because of their significant roles in treaties (see below; Cavigneaux and Krebernik 2000: 440 for the suggestion that Ninkar the goddess of daylight is associated with Ūm, “day”).
© Irene Sibbing-Plantholt, 2022 | doi:10.1163/9789004512412_005
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abikh god list ias 82: 58 (rev. iii 14),4 which would be the oldest documentation of Ninkarrak. At Ebla, her name could be written dnin-kar-ra₂/du (= ni-ka₃ra/la-du),5 and in Old Assyrian sources, (d)ni-ka₃-ra-ak.6 In the Ur iii period, her name could be written dnin-kar7 and dnin-kar-ra,8 orthographies also found in the Old Babylonian period. The construction ur ka-duḫ-a dnin-kar!-ka, “dog with the gaping maw of Ninkarrak”, found in an Ur iii Sāmānu incantation,9 hints at a (double) genitive, but since the name already contains an error, the reliability of this attestation is questionable.10 Besides the common dnin-kar-ra-ak, other Old Babylonian renditions of the name are dnin-kar;11 dnin-kar-ra,12 dnin-kar-ak;13 dnin-ni-ka-ra-ak;14 and probably dnin-kar₂.15 At Mari, besides dnin-kar-ra-ak,16 the name is further written
4 5
6
7 8 9
10 11
12
13
14
15
Mander 1986: 7. Ebla Vocabulary mee 4: 289 line 798 (Castellino 1984: 368; Lambert 1984b: 396, 398–399; Pomponio and Xella 1997: 293). See also Ebla offering List Pettinato 1979: 133 vi 37; 166 viii 27 (Lambert 1984b: 399). The divine name dnin-kar also occurs in this offering list; Pettinato (1979: 108) suggests that the two were distinct and that Ninkar was Ninkarrak; see also Lambert 1984b: 399. It is thus not clear whether this deity is indeed Ninkarrak, but the range of different orthographies makes it possible that multiple orthographies for Ninkarrak were used in one text. tcl 14 (tc 2) 54 rev 8′ (Ulshöfer 1995: 29–30 [no. 62]; Dercksen 1997: 88, 96) and Kt 94/k 821: 20 (Michel 1997: 60; 2004; Westenholz 2010: 388; Farber 2014: 75 [oa₁ 20]), and perhaps bin 4 91: 5 (ni-k[a₃-ra-ak], Dercksen 1997: 88 n. 47; Michel 2001: 400). Owen 2013a no. 293: 21. Ur iii Girsu personal name in sat 1 435 i 2, rev ii 13. hs 1555+1587 obv. 4 (Finkel 1998: 79–80; Van Dijk and Geller 2003: 28; see also Westenholz 2010: 384). Finkel (1998: 79–80) transliterates the divine name as dnin-te-ka(sic) and translates Ninḫursag. See further also ki šu-dnin-kar-ra-ta (personal name), Ferwerda 1985: no. 8: 8. rime 2.1.4.3 ex. 2 (pbs 4/1 36) rev. iv′ 14′–15′ (Old Babylonian Narām-Sîn inscription; in ex. 1, her name is written dnin-kar-ak, see following footnote); Old Babylonian personal name Šu-dnin-kar in bin 9 118: 4 (Westenholz 2010: 380). In ob Nippur in pbs 8/2 110: 2, we read da e₂ e-sir₂ dnin-kar-ra, “next to the shrine (in) the temple (of) Ninkarra(k)” (Richter 2004: 114), without a -k or indication of a genitive ending. dnin-kar-ra also occurs in Old Babylonian personal names, e.g. bin 9 43: 4; bin 7 67 (seal); Ferwerda 1985: 17 no. 8: 8; pbs 8/2 110: 2 (Goodnick-Westenholz 2010: 379–380). rime 2.1.4.5 ex. 1 (uet 1 276) obv. ii 3 (Old Babylonian Narām-Sîn inscription) and the Nippur God List slt 122 ii 4 (Peterson 2009: 24; in the other three exemplars preserving this line, the name is written dnin-kar-ra-ak); Old Babylonian personal name Ferwerda 1985: 28 no. 15: 3 (Westenholz 2010: 380). ob Umma incantation uiom 1059: 30 (Goetze 1955: 10; Cunningham 1997: 119; Foster 2005: 177–178). Ningirima is also written dni-gi-ri-ma in this text. Farber (1990: 307 n. 48) calls the text “probably somewhat corrupt”. rime 2.1.4.6 [bt 1] iii 21′; see also Frayne 1992: 106 n. 85. The gate of dnin-kar₂ is the battle ground of the conflict, and in an Old Babylonian Mari exerpt tablet of the Great Revolt
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dnin-kar-ak,17 dnin-ḫar-ra,18 and perhaps dnin-ḫar-ra-ak.19 Other renditions are ni-ka-rakₓ(rik₂) at Ugarit,20 and dni-ka+ra/i-wa/i-sa₂ in a hieroglyphic Luwian curse formula from Karkemish dating to the early 1st millennium b.c.e.21 In Middle Babylonian sources, dnin-kar-ra-ak is consistently used, but a variety of other orthographies could still be found in the 1st millennia bce, such as dninkar₂-ra-ak(-a)22 and dnin-ka-rak.23 Although the name can be written in so many different ways, it is commonly assumed that the name should be explained as the Sumerian genitive compound nin.kar.ak, “the lady of the quay”.24 Another possible explanation involving a genitive compound is dnin-kara₂, “lady of the mourning cloth”, to be analyzed as nin.kara.ak, which emphasizes a potential chthonic character, which fits Ninkarrak’s liminality well, see below. This could explain why the most popular writing is with -kar-ra-ak instead of -kar-ak. However, although the above mentioned (not fully reliable) orthography dnin-kar!-ka would support
16
17 18 19 20
21 22
23 24
Against Narām-Sîn, the assembly and coronation of Ipḫur-Kiši took place in the temple of Ninkarrak (e₂-sa-ba-ad e₂ dnin-kar-ra-a[k], Westenholz 1997: 234–235 [text 16a line 14]), see following footnote. Dossin 1971: 4 rev. 7′ (draft for a Zimri-Lim victory stela from Mari); The Old Babylonian Mari version of The Great Revolt against Narām-Sîn (Westenholz 1997: 234–235 [no. 16a line 14]) and personal name Puzur-Ninkarrak (KA.ŠA-dnin!-kar!-ra-ak, arm 8 2: 27; the name was previously read as Puzur-Elterak in arm 8: 8–9: for the amended reading, see Falkenstein 1960: 177a; arm 16/1: 170). Cavigneaux 1994: 156 (M 15289) rev. 3′: dnin-kar-a[k?] (Mari incantation, see below). Lambert 1985: 183–185 obv. 105, rev. 4 (Mari god list). Dossin 1950: 43–44 lines 23′–25′ (Mari offering list). Ugarit incantation rs 20.006 (Ug. 5 no. 19) lines 11 and 12 (Fincke 2000: 301–302; Del Olmo Lete 2014: 69–71; see also Foster 2005: 967), see paragraph 4.1.4. See also Alalaḫ incantation AlT 449(+)450a: 10, which (Farber 1990: 310 n. 52) suggests to read as ši-pat Ne-ni-[ka-raak?] (see Zomer 2018: 61 n. 203, who reconstructs this as the incantation of Nin[karrak]). Gelb 1938; Hawkins 2000: 125 §31; Westenholz 2010: 390. The final -a is added to the name of the goddess in Neo-Babylonian sources when it calls for a genitive or dative ending, see Westenholz 2010: 392 n. 34; Al-Rawi 1990: 2–3; Nbk. 27a: 23, 27b: 6 (Langdon 1912: 194); see also Cavigneaux 1981: 95 line 167 (79.B.1/41 A rev. ii; oect 4 141g). See also Exemplar a (Ashm. 1937.620) of the Gula Hymn of Bulluṭsarabi, which renders the name Ninkarrak dnin-te-ra-ak-a (Lambert 1967b: 120 line 67, Table x). 3 R 66 xii 7′ (Menzel 1981 T 125; Meinhold 2009: 399). E.g. Kraus 1951: 69; Edzard 1965: 78; Roberts 1972: 150; Robson 2008: 465. The reason that modern scholars like to make the connection between Ninkarrak and “Lady of the Quay” is that they associate female goddesses with temple prostitution, see for instance Von Soden 1957–1958; Lambert 1992; see also paragraph 5.2.5. However, a more viable connection between the translation “Lady of the Quay” and healing properties would be the role of prostitutes as health care providers and birth assistants (see Part 2).
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a genitive ending, the different, phonetic orthographies of the name make this unlikely. Moreover, Lambert (2013: 434) pointed out that the nin in Sumerian divine names is normally not part of a genitive construction, but rather part of an apposition.25 A slightly different explanation that would avoid this problem is to read the ak not the genitive marker but as the Sumerian verb “to do”. This allows for the interpretation nin-kar-ak(=kid₃), “Lady, one who Works the Quay (= Prostitute)”,26 or “Lady, one who Performs the Act of Saving/Healing”.27 It has also been suggested that the name means “Lady of Kar(r)ak/Larak”,28 but if the second element of the name would indeed be a toponym, one would expect it to be written at least once with a determinative. Another explanation was put forward by Frayne (1992: 15), namely that Ninkarrak stands for “Lady of the Scalpel (gir₂)”, with Ninkarrak as an Akkadian phonetic derivation of the Sumerian nin.gir.ak, “the lady of the scalpel”, and kar being the corresponding element to gir₂ based on gir₂-gag(zal) = karṣillu. This explanation is highly unlikely because, beside it being farfetched, Ninkarrak as not associated with the gir₂-gag(zal)/karṣillu. None of these offered Sumerian interpretations of the name is fully convincing, nor do they fit the original character of the deity, which will be discussed below. In fact it seems that, although the name certainly appears Sumerian, the signs with which it is written (such as kar) hold no particular value— for instance, the name can also be written with ḫar, ka, kar₂, etc. instead of kar, and even the sign nin is variable, in for instance (d)ni-ka₃-ra-ak. The inconsistent use of nin and other exceptional orthographies, and the fact that several other foreign divine names end in -ak (e.g. Tišpak, Inšušinak, and the
25
26
27 28
See also Litke 1998: 179–180, who stated that the interpretation of -ak as a genitive ending (as one would not expect the full genitive ending in this construction) as well as a petrified genitive is problematic. Lambert 1953: 36; Lambert 1992: 138; Steinkeller apud Westenholz 2010: 380–381. Attinger (1993: 179; 2005: 232) reads kar-ak as “qui fait le quai”. For kar-ak(=kid₃) = ḫarimtu, see Civil 1976; 1984: 88–89. This explanation would lead us back to the prostitute connotation, which, as discussed in Part 2, potentially has points of contact with lay or folk healing. Nikel 1918: 42; Attinger 2005: 233 (with kar as the deverbalized noun from the verb kar “to carry away, save” or “heal”). Tallqvist (1938: 409) suggested the explanation “Herrin von Karrak”, with Karrak supposedly a geographical name. Hallo (1971: 65 n. 94) thought that Nin-Larak became NinKar(r)ak based on the development Larak > Lakrak > Karrak. Interesting in this light is the Old Babylonian Isin school text with a personal name exercise, consisting of Šu-Larak = Šu-Ninkarrak (ib 1966; Sommerfeld in Hrouda 1992: 152–153). Krebernik (2003: 165) does not believe there is an etymological connection between the two names. For the goddess of Larak, Gašan-ašte, see paragraph 3.1.1.2.
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Dilmun deities Inzak and Meskilak), caused Westenholz (2010: 380–381) to postulate that the goddess was originally known by the non-Sumerian name Nik(k)arrak.29 The Sumerian appearance of the name could later have been carefully created by scholars who attempted to give the goddess a meaningful position within the religious framework, a common process in Mesopotamia.30 The many different orthographies indeed suggest that the name was written phonetically, and therefore this analysis seems most likely. The name itself thus does not provide information on the character and function of Ninkarrak, but does confirm that the goddess was foreign to Mesopotamia, which is also the picture that emerges when one reconstructs her cult. 4.1.2 The Origins of Ninkarrak: A Liminal Curse and Oath Deity Ninkarrak’s first attestations provide valuable insight into her original nature: she was important in oaths and curses. As mentioned in the previous paragraph, she occurs for the first time in the Old Akkadian period, in a treaty between an Elamite ruler and Narām-Sîn.31 The text, which is written with Old Akkadian sign forms but in the Elamite language, mentions Ninkarrak (dninkar-ak) in a long list of invoked deities. Most of them are Elamite, but a few Mesopotamian deities and demons are mentioned as well: Ilaba, Išḫara (written daš₂-ḫa-ra), Mazziat/Manzât, “rainbow”, and Ninurta (damaged).32 This is the earliest connection between Ninurta and Ninkarrak. Ninkarrak (dnin-kar-ak) was also part of a list of deities in the curse section of an Old Babylonian copy of a Narām-Sîn inscription; she is the last mentioned goddess, and comes after the day demon Ūm.33 The same list of gods, also with
29
30
31 32 33
Van Dijk (1987: 100) points out that the final -ak morpheme is reminiscent of Elamite divine names. Note that Kraus (1951: 69) and Jacobsen (1973b: 165) interpret the -ak in Ninkarrak as the marker of a Sumerian loan word, similar to for instance Inšuninak (20 (a-zu, asû, asûtu, asâtu, azugallatu)
1–2d (asû?, azugallatu)
6e (a-zu, a-zu[gal] /azugallatu)
1 (asītu)
1(a-zu)
a Two attestations are the personal name dba-u₂-a-zu; this could be the same person. The field name a-ša₃ dba-u₂ nin a-zu is counted as one attestation as this probably is the same field, but it occurs in two sources (itt 3 6316: 4; unl 1 133). b The personal name Bau-asât occurs in three sources; two of these (cusas 36 56: 1 and tcbi 2/3 4 obv. 1), but perhaps all three (cusas 36 38: 15), belong to the same person. The others two occurrences of Bau as asû are in hymns. c Six of these are curses in kudurrus (see paragraph 3.2.4.1); two are the personal name Gula-asât (be 15 200 iii 13 and be 15 188 ii! 7′), who may or may not be the same person; the other two attestations are on a cylinder seal (Lambert 1988) and an incantation (Rm 376 iv 22). d She is called azugallatu in Šurpu 4 107. One exemplar of the Gula Hymn of Bulluṭsa-rabi (Exemplar E, NeoAssyrian tablet K 3225+6321 iv 10′, Lambert 1967b: 128–129 [composite line 197]) directs the final prayer to Ninkarrak, and the goddess is called asû in the composition; however, this exemplar only partly preserves line 146, which attributes asûtu (here “the art of healing”; for asûtu, see Chapter 6) to the goddess (Lambert 1967b: 124–125), and the other lines in the composition in which the goddess calls herself asû are not preserved on this tablet. e Of these six, five are different tablets with the incantation a-zu kalam-ma dnin-i₃-si-in-na-ke₄ ama-arḫuškalam-ma-me-en; the other is a zipad incantation (K 3179+ iii 29–30, 32).
goddess. Their manifestations were for instance kept separate in offering lists and they had their own cult centers and characters. When the goddesses were mentioned together, they may have represented different contexts, domains of healing, or types of healing. This chapter has shed some light on what these could have been. As already alluded to, Bau was kept distinct from Gula, Ninisina, and Nintinuga. Bau was called asû in the Ur iii period, but unlike Gula, Ninisina, and Nintinuga, did not have asûs involved in her cult offering distributions. The fact
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that she was called asû in (female) personal names in the Ur iii, Old Babylonian, and Neo-Babylonian periods, shows that she instead may have played a special role in personal cult, especially of women, possibly in reference to her domestic and motherly healing role. At Aššur, where she was associated with Gula, she appears to have had relevance to scholars. What further stands out about Bau is that she, unlike Gula, Ninisina, and Nintinuga, and Ninkarrak, was not associated with dogs. The role of the dog as a marginal animal with his ability to live in and travel between the worlds of the living and the dead is what made the dog the attribute of these goddesses, who could bring both life and death. Bau was mostly a motherly healing figure and may have had fewer chthonic or liminal aspects than the other goddesses, who all played a more prominent role in curses and/or incantations to control or ward off demons and (demonic) dogs. Bau and Ninisina stand out from the other goddesses in that they both were city goddesses and, from the Early Dynastic period on, their importance came forth from these centers, where they must have been revered for their healing powers. They shared similar epithets in Sumerian literature, like asû and azugal, šim-mu₂, and (ama)šu-ḫal-bi. This implies that they embodied various forms of healing, both among mankind and among the gods, including healing by asûs, intimate healing and care provided by mothers, the knowledge of healing plants and the provision of healing substances, and were the last resort when human healing failed: they were the divine epitomy of healing. Ninisina, who also was important in incantations and warded off evil powers such as the Asag demon, was the most versatile healing goddess and was most tightly associated with asûs, as she is called asû in the most and largest variety of Old Babylonian sources, namely hymns and letter-prayers, incantations, and royal (dedicatory) inscriptions. Ninisina seems to have embodied the large and heterogeneous group of asûs,345 not only the highly educated ones, who at this time had not formed a coherent group nor established a solid identity yet. She may have been employed by certain asûs as a divine patron who provided healing knowledge; however, there was no systematic program recognizable in text or image that portrayed Ninisina as the divine counterpart of this specific group of asûs who performed healing superior to others. She was also not the only healing goddess associated with asûs; also Bau and Gula, and to an extent Nintinuga, were divine asûs in the divine realm, with especially Bau and Gula being worshiped in personal cult, probably to invoke their healing powers in case of illness.
345
See Part 2.
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Nintinuga, who was a Nippurian deity associated with purifying and cleansing, was also versatile, and already had healing qualities in the Ur iii period, perhaps as the extension of the healing qualities of Enlil. Her healing aspects were more clearly defined in the Old Babylonian period at Nippur, when she had become the one who revives the dead, which is confirmed through a new explanation (and orthography) of her name. She embodies a wide range of healing: she could perform bodily healing, such as healing the cripple, applying bandages, and examining bones, and drive out evil forces, such as the Asag demon, and she could perform divination. She was however rarely specifically called asû. Unlike Bau, Ninisina, and Nintinuga, the place of origin of Gula and Ninkarrak remains unclear. Moreover, Ninkarrak was not a healing deity in origin, but an oath and curse deity. She was a liminal goddess who brought disease and death, and this marginal character explains her connection with dogs, which was present in incantations from the Ur iii period on. Because those having power over death and illness usually can also heal, she may have become a healing deity. She had no household, family or spouse that she was connected to, but she often appeared with Išḫara, who fulfilled a similar role in oaths and curses. The name Ninkarrak may sound Sumerian, but the inconsistencies in orthography make it seem as if her name was not understood in Mesopotamia. The earliest sources show that she was prominent in the eastern and western periphery. Her cult took root in the Mesopotamian heartland in the Old Babylonian period, where she was mainly revered at Sippar. Gula was later introduced here too, with whom she became interchangeable at this site. In curses, Ninkarrak was not described an asû her herself, but rather as the one who brings diseases that an asû cannot cure, as opposed to Gula, who is called an asû and who could permit an asû to heal these diseases. Although she was almost never called asû, also not in the 1st millennium b.c.e., she performed actions that are typical of asûs, such as bandaging. She did not seem to represent one specific type of healer, nor did she embody every form of healing; Ninkarrak was for instance not commonly portrayed as a motherly figure or female healer or care giver, such as a midwife. As seen in Chapters 2 and 3, Gula’s cult also did not depend on a specific political center or (spousal) relationships to other deities. Gula, who is not mentioned in Sumerian hymns or literature (except as epithet of Ninisina) and whose healing character is not described directly in the texts in the 3rd millennium b.c.e., may have been originally a goddess who played an important role in the personal devotion of the population as well as kings. Gula’s name may refer to her being “the great, old one” who from the beginning of time was the deity who represented healing to the general population. She may
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thus have represented healing forms in the traditional, domestic domain, or lay and folk sectors, including midwives and female asûs. In the Old Babylonian period a new category of incantations emerged, those of complementary deities Gula and Damu, which also show a strong connection to domestic and holistic (versus hegemonic) practices. At this time, Gula can first be recognized as asû and a-zu-gal, but not nearly as often as Ninisina, who embodied all kinds of healing, including that performed by asûs. Due to their comparable healing qualities, some goddesses were directly equated; this equation was sometimes a result of political development, as for instance the case with Ninisina and Nintinuga, whose ties represent the political relationship between Isin and Nippur. But in the case of Gula, who has little to no royal significance as she was never mentioned in year names, royal prayers and inscriptions, or hymns, this may reflect a process of translation in daily life, as the theophoric element Gula in a personal name could be exchanged for Ninkarrak, and šangû-priests were called those of Gula and Ninisina interchangeably. However, this was all only detectable at Old Babylonian Sippar. The other goddess with whom Gula became equated and who in fact merged with her was Meme, who was originally a separate deity and represented female care and protection, lost her own characteristics and became a name for Gula in course of the 2nd millennium b.c.e. Bau and Nintinuga were not (closely) associated with Gula until later in the 2nd millennium or even 1st millennium b.c.e. In fact, some clear changes can be detected between the Old Babylonian and Middle Babylonian period. After the Old Babylonian period, the cults of Bau, Ninisina, Nintinuga and Ninkarrak diminished (and that of Meme ceased), except for that of Gula. Her cult was established in Isin as well as Nippur, with Gula becoming the spouse of Ninurta and being integrated into the Enlil circle, and also was associated with Marduk, who rose as the head of the new theistic model during the Middle Babylonian period.346 At this time she became more and more important in the state cult and her cult spread widely, and she became known as the healing goddess and divine asû/azugallatu par excellence. In fact, whereas in the Old Babylonian period, mainly Ninisina, but also Bau, Nintinuga and Gula could carry the title asû/a-zu-gal, only Gula was called asû in Middle Babylonian period. And although all healing goddesses were barely, but at least once called asû and mentioned in healing context in the 1st millennium b.c.e., they were completely overshadowed by the popular healing goddess Gula, with whom all to some extent were equated. At this time, the goddesses seem to have
346
For the ideological transmission from Enlil to Marduk under Kassite rule, see Lambert 1964; Tenney 2016.
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melted all together in syncretistic hymns and god lists, but they were still individual characters who appeared in different sources and in different roles, who appeared alongside of and interacted with each other. In the late 2nd and the 1st millennia b.c.e., Bau still as divine asû in personal devotion, especially women; Ninisina, who at Middle Babylonian had become mostly an official city goddess versus Gula, the goddess who the people turned to for healing, was still a divine asû, but not as prominently anymore. The most significant evidence for her role as is the incantation a-zu kalam-ma dnin-i₃-si-in-na-ke₄ ama-arḫuš-kalam-mame-en, which also emphasizes her continuing role as motherly healer. Nintinuga was known as the Sumerian translation of the ability of Gula to revive the dead, perhaps thus a personification of this aspect of Gula, the last resort of divine healing. The curse deity Ninkarrak was associated and regularly interchangeable with Gula, but was almost never called asû herself. All in all, all healing goddesses continue to exist and retained a healing role into the 1st millennium b.c.e., but only Gula was unambiguously connected to asûs. She was called asû/azugallatu more than twenty times, and she assumed this role in multiple types of text sources and genres: in royal inscriptions, curses and oaths, votive inscriptions, greeting formulae, hymns, prayers and medical texts. Gula was not the only deity carrying the epithet asû at this time,347 but only Gula was systematically associated with asûs on such a large scale and in the largest variety of sources. She also is the only healing deity who was depicted as the physical embodiment of the asû in iconography. And through deliberate textual and iconographical descriptions and references, she was portrayed as the embodiment of a particular group of asûs: the scholarly, professional asûs. The latter became a well-defined elite group of professional healers at the same time that Gula became the healing goddess and divine asû per se and was elevated in the theistic model representing royal control over the land. How this bolstered Gula symbolically represented and justified the development of the identity of the professional asûs will be discussed in the part 2 and 3 of this book. 347
See also for instance the bilingual šuilla to Ningeštinana mlc 1861 line 17: a-zu-gal-la-ke₄ / a-zu-gal-la-at, Cohen 1989: 81–82, 84.
part 2 Asûs in the Mesopotamian Medical Marketplace
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An Overview of the Mesopotamian Medical Marketplace Here is another custom of theirs, which is the second wisest. They do not use physicians; instead they carry their sick people out into the public square and allow people to approach the sick person and advise him about his illness. Some may themselves have suffered from the same illness that the sick person has, or have seen someone else who did. They go to the sick person and give advice, encouraging him to do whatever they themselves or others they may know have done to be cured of a similar illness. And it is not permitted for anyone to leave the side of a sick person before having inquired what illness he suffers from. herodotus, Histories 1.1971
∵ Herodotus’ descriptions of the ancient Near East should be taken with a grain of salt, and obviously, this statement is not fully accurate: there were certainly learned medical experts available. However, it does draw attention to an aspect of the Mesopotamian medical marketplace that is largely ignored in modern scholarship, namely community-based healing. Instead of describing a low state of medicine and an undesired situation caused by the lack of medical experts, as is sometimes assumed,2 Herodotus rather seems to have admired how people were expected to show compassion and make themselves available to those who needed healing by freely sharing their experience and traditional medical knowledge. Although the Mesopotamian scholarly medical texts present an image from the perspective of the scholarly experts, there is evidence for popular or lay healing and healing from experience performed within households and local communities. Therefore the general assumptions
1 Translation following Purvis in Strassler 2009: 106. 2 See Oppenheim 1977: 299; Maul 2001: 4; see also Joannès 2006: 73; Worthington 2009: 55.
© Irene Sibbing-Plantholt, 2022 | doi:10.1163/9789004512412_006
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made about Mesopotamian medicine, namely that the āšipu and asû as specialists were the only healing options to the Mesopotamian patient,3 is not accurate. The Mesopotamian patient had a choice to seek out various types of healers, and to some, even the professional healers who produced the medical texts would have been an option. This chapter will shed light on the wide extent of the Mesopotamian medical marketplace, including the parts that generally stay underlit, and will present additional healers to āšipus and asûs. Because the evidence is scarce and scattered, some of the healing options presented here are mere suggestions, which are intended to make one aware of how many forms of healing, beyond what is described in medical texts, could have existed. Moreover, this chapter looks specifically at the multidimensional position of asûs within the Mesopotamian medical marketplace.
5.1
Lay and Domestic Healing
The lay or popular sector is the non-specialist area where illness is first defined and health care activities or therapeutic interventions are initiated, by the sufferer him- or herself, and his or her family and community. It consists of anyone, from patients who identify their own ailment to those in their proximate environment. Across cultures, lay healers are the healing option generally preferred and first sought out by patients because they prefer personal, accessible, comprehensive, private, and sympathetic care.4 Family members are particularly desired because they can offer a type of relief or advice based on their own experience with illness and healing and their relationship with the patient. As Horace illustrates: if your body is seized with a chill and racked with pain, or some other mishap has pinned you to your bed, have you got someone to sit by you, to get lotions ready, to call in the doctor so as to raise you up and restore you to your children and dear kinsmen?5
3 See Chapter 1. 4 For this phenomenon in the Roman period, see for instance Carr 2002; Draycott 2016. Nutton (2013: 101) states that in ancient Greece and Rome, most diseases would have been first diagnosed and treated at home. See Pelling 2003 and Sumich 2013 for early modern Europe. For the modern day, see the references in Lock and Nguyen 2018 and specific case studies like Finerman 1989; 2014; Ariës et al. 2007. 5 Horace Satires 1.1.80–83, translation following Draycott 2016: 435.
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Cross-culturally, healing in the lay sector is more complex than just first responses to mundane illnesses, i.e. non-threatening, non-chronic diseases that do not require intervention from professional healers, or the divine. In modern studies this lay sector tends to be dismissed as something rudimentary and ineffective and only sought out in cases of mild illness. Kleinman (1980: 53) states that medical anthropologists have failed to recognize the therapeutic, preventive and health maintenance functions of lay healing.6 This also has to do with the general lack of sources for these layers of society, and crossculturally, most of the healers in this sector remain unnamed. However, this sector is often highly complex and the healers operating within it can diagnose and treat a wide variety of illnesses, and have access to dozens of (herbal and, in modern societies, commercially produced) remedies.7 The family is an important source of knowledge in regard to healing, and mothers especially are often perceived as experienced and skilled healers, based on extensive exposure to and experience with family illnesses due to their role in overseeing household activities.8 Therefore they generally form a prominent and important group of lay healers who know how to diagnose and cure through questioning the patients and identifying their symptoms in great detail, and perform treatments by making use of extensive knowledge of botany.9 Although girls are exposed to health care training by their mothers and through looking after their siblings, real experience comes with bearing children and taking care of a household. Unmarried women and/or women without children therefore do not always demonstrate the same level of expertise and do not receive the same level of acknowledgement.10 Motherhood thus comes with a certain degree of healing knowledge. Some scholars have already drawn attention to this section of the Mesopotamian health care system, such as Lambert (1987: 127), who stated that “the mother or daughters would most often look after the invalids” in a Mesopotamian household situation, and Worthington (2003: 9–
6 7 8
9 10
See also Finerman 1989: 40. Young 1981; Herrick 1983; Finerman 1989; 2014. See for instance the role of mothers as healers and the ones responsible for family health among Saraguro Indians in Equador (Finerman 1989). Finerman (1989: 25–26, with further references) specifically states that this study is not unrepresentative or ethnographically extreme, but that cross-cultural studies show that women play a major role in healing in many societies. Nutton (2013: 101–102) points out that Xenophon (Household Management 7.37) and Columella (On Agriculture 12.1.5) place the responsibility for the health of the servants on the lady of the house. Finerman 1989: 36–37; 2004. For a brief section on caring (not healing) mothers in Mesopotamia, see Couto-Ferreira 2016: 30. Finerman 1989: 33, 36; 2014.
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11), who pointed out that pharmaceutical medicine was closely associated with the domestic activity of cooking and fell under the domain of lay healing performed by women. Cross-cultural research has further shown that patients’ decisions to rely on health care provided by their direct environment is not always simply determined by a lack of financial and/or geographical access to other healers or healing methods, or conservative attitudes towards those methods. Some patients avoid a treatment by professional healers even when it is free and readily accessible.11 Instead, the choice to rely on lay healing is largely determined by environmental, social, and cultural costs and benefits. Patients appreciate emotional support and personalized care, a treatment by someone familiar, and the use of recognizable vernacular rather than medical jargon.12 Moreover, being treated in one’s own home by family provides privacy, which prevents gossip and public shaming.13 Also, in a world in which illness is an external threat caused by forces beyond human control, the home is a place of refuge.14 The healing provided by the lay healer or mother falls thus in the domestic domain, one of (cultural and biological) production and reproduction. This domestic domain, as discussed in Chapter 1, is largely unshaken by attempted influence and control by the political and economic center, which in many societies is responsible for public health and the encouragement of the use of professional healers. Thus, in many cultures, professional healers treat a number of specific (types of) illnesses in a wide range of individuals, while lay healers, in particular women, treat a wide range of illnesses in a small group of specific individuals, and thus are very much invested in and connected to their direct community. The Mesopotamian lay sector is difficult to penetrate, but subtle references in letters and hymns to the household caring for sick members are viable sources of information on healing in the domestic domain. Mothers were indeed responsible for primary care in case of illness, pregnancy and childbirth, and possessed knowledge of plants and herbs in the domestic sphere.15 This is also reflected in the healing goddesses, who were asked to stand in as mothers when motherly healing and care could not be provided in case of illness.16 A direct reference to mothers healing their family members is Gudea Cylinder B
11 12 13 14 15 16
Finerman 1989: 38–39. Aamodt 1978; Finerman 1989: 37. Finerman 1989: 37; 2014; Marshall 2008. Finerman 1989: 34; 2014. See Schwemer 2007: 140. See Part 1.
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iv 17–18 which describes a state of peace instilled upon the land by Gudea on a day of sacrifice. During this serene time, mothers provided potions for their sick children:17 iri-a ama lu2 tur5-ra-ke4 a silim gar-ra-am3 In the city, it was the mother of a sick person who administered a potion. The authors of the Kassite medical letters, who were probably high-status healers, often mentioned that they assigned (esēḫu) their treatments and/or that others should perform the bandaging of patients.18 One could imagine those “others” to be the family or household members who were present at the scene, as so vividly described above by Horace.19 Other letters show that family members were informed when their family members had fallen ill,20 or ill people could reach out to their family members or others in their direct environment, for instance to provide care when an asû was not an option, or to ask for a visit.21 Such a visit provided company and relief, perhaps including physical or medical care. Even a letter from a loved one already could provide healing. In answers to letters stating that someone has fallen ill, authors sent (wishes for) wellness in the hope that this would positively affect the sick recipients, and displayed emotional empathy in order to provide comfort.22 There are also examples of ill people diagnosing themselves and determining the severity of their illness, which also falls under the lay sector. An example is the unpublished Kassite letter N 1286, in which the sender of the letter requests an asû because he claims to have a severe illness and is in a recumbent state, an indication of being very sick.23 He made this diagnosis without having consulted an asû, as he says that he has no access to one.24 Some 17 18 19 20 21
22 23 24
etcsl 2.1.7. lines 902–903. Sibbing Plantholt 2014: 181. See also Sibbing Plantholt 2014: 181. E.g. cusas 32 179: 19–20, in which the author reports to the addressee that his daughter is sick and in a bad way (le-em-ni-iš i-ba-aš-ši ma-ar-ṣa-at). AbB 10 55 (see below) and AbB 10 169. See further Sibbing-Plantholt 2020 for an overview of Old Babylonian letters concerning a person’s illness and the distress this illness causes in the patient and the people their correspond with. Sallaberger 1999: 88–89, 101–105; Sibbing-Plantholt 2020. a-a-ši gig-ṣu da-⸢an⸣-[nu] na-da-ku, “as for me, there is a seve[re] illness; I am lying down”, N 1286 rev. 1–2. i-na kur Ir-re-e-[ia] lu₂a-su ia-ʾ-nu, “in Irrēya there is no asû”, N 1286 rev. 2–3. Irrēya was an area between the Diyala and the Lower Zab, where Nuzi is located; see Brinkman 1963: 235 (n. 2); 1968: 126 n. 738 (citing Fuad Safar); Nashef 1982: 138; Lambert 2011: 15, 18 (line 7).
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texts describe cases of healing without giving an indication that healers were involved, and although it cannot be excluded that an asû or other healer was at work, they may well describe cases of lay healing. For instance, when distributions are made to sick people, it is possible that these distributed materials were intended to be used by the ill to cure themselves. In administrative text arm 25 788, someone with a foot ailment is provided with lead, perhaps in order to heal it.25 Oil was provided to people when they were sick or injured. Letter arm 26 273 reports that a treatment with oil should have been made available to certain sick people, but that they had been taken care of yet.26 Another letter, AbB 11 57, contains a call for oil because a man was bitten by a dog and needed to be bandaged.27 This is reminiscent of an Ur iii administrative text that records the distribution of oil to treat a snake bite: 1 sila₃ i₃-giš ur-me-te-na kisal-luḫ šu ba-ti mu mušušumgal zu₂ ba-an-du₃a-še₃ Urmetena the kisal-luḫ received 1 sila oil because an ušumgal-snake bit him.28 As a kisal-luḫ, “courtyard sweeper”, Urmetena may have encountered a snake while he was working. No specific type of healer seems to have been called for assistance, although there were several specialists who would be suited to heal this affliction: the Laws of Ur-Namma show that asûs could heal the bite of the ušumgal-snake, and mušlaḫḫus were the specialists in snake-handling and snake-related illness.29
25
26 27 28
29
Paulus 2014: 192. See also im 49233: 4–11 (al-Aʾdami 1967: 157–158; also Worthington 2009: 60, see below for this letter). This letter is being prepared for publication by the author. 1/3 ma-na a-ba-rum a-na Ṭa₃-ba-at-lugal-ru-su₂ i-nu-ma gir₃-šu im-ra-ṣu₂, “1/3 mina lead for Ṭabal-šarrusu when his foot got sick”, amr 25 788: 3–4. For the use of lead in healing, see Arkhipov 2009. Medical texts show that diseases and sores of the foot, which can even cause death, were treated through bandaging (ṣamādu), rubbing the foot with oil or ghee (pašāšu), bathing, applying applying medication, and administering enemas and anal suppositories (Choukassizian Eypper 2016). For inflictions on the foot, see Durand 1988: 552; be 17 22 (Waschow 1936: 39; Ritter 1965: 318; Sibbing Plantholt 2014: 172, 180–181); Sanati-Müller 1990: 187 no. 132: 14–18 (Worthington 2009: 57 n. 49). See Worthington 2003: 8 n. 43 for the question if this is folk healing. AbB 11 57: 10–22. Worthington (2009: 62) also mentions the unlikelihood that the author was a professional healer, and that the letter thus probably refers to lay healing. tcti 2 3567 obv. 1–4. Bertrand Lafont reads e₂-sukkal instead of kisal-luḫ, see his transliteration on the cdli website https://cdli.ucla.edu/search/archival_view.php?ObjectID= P132783 (visited on 9 July 2019). See paragraphs 6.3.1 and 5.2.3 respectively.
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Another sudden injury treated with oil, possibly by those present at the scene and not by specific healers, is described by Kassite letter be 17 21, which mentions that two workers fell into a pit and broke their bones: 2 ir₃-e₂-gal-li a-na bu-u[₂-ri] im-qu-u₂-tu ša 1 ki-ir-ra-šu še-bi-ir ⸢u₃ 2⸣ gi-šaa-šu še-bi-ir be-li₂ liš-pu-r[a]-am-ma i₃-giš lid-di-nu-ma le₂-bi-li-ṭu₂-šu-nuti Two servants of the palace have fallen into a well. The collarbone of one was broken and the hip of the other one was broken. May my lord write to me so that they may they give out oil to heal them!30 Since in this case, no asû or other healer was asked for, the unspecified community around these workmen may have been responsible for their treatment, with the oil serving to massage the affected area and realign the broken bones.31 A common type of folk healer in many societies, the “bone-setter” cannot be recognized in the Mesopotamian textual record, but according to the Laws of Ur-Namma and Hammurabi, asûs performed the art of healing broken bones—although these passages just refer to the healing of the bones and do not reveal anything about the techniques used.32 It is of course also possible that an asû was part of the community of workmen; we know that asûs were involved in building activities and were present at construction sites in case of injuries.33 However, the fact that asûs were not always consulted right away can be observed in Neo-Assyrian letter saa 19 38, in which it is reported to the rab ša
30 31
32
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be 17 21: 27–33, see Waschow: 1936: 40; Finet 1954–1957: 141; Sibbing Plantholt 2014: 173 n. 16. Sibbing Plantholt 2014: 181. The use of oil in case of broken bones in oder to massage the area around the fracture and bandage the affected body part after applying herbal medicine can be found in the practice of bonesetters in, for instance, Ghana and Mesoamerica, (Paul and McMahon 2001: 255; Ariës et al. 2007: 569–570). Bandaging would be difficult in case of a hip and clavical fracture. See paragraph 6.3.1. The passage in the Laws of Ur-Namma is problematic (see paragraph 6.3.1), but uses the verb sag₉, “to be/make good”, and the The Laws of Hammurabi §221: 96 reads šum-ma a-zu gir₃-pad-du a-wi-lim še-bi-ir-tam uš-ta-li-im “If an asû heals a man’s broken bone”. The use of šalāmu D means nothing more than “to heal, to repair”. The word kašāru/kešēru, which is used in medical texts to indicate the healing of broken bones (šebirte ana kešēre, see bam 124 iii 57 // 125 rev. 28 // bam 413 obv. 1′–2′, Fincke 2011: 160 n. 4; cad š/2: 251; Scurlock and Andersen 2005: 247–248; Scurlock 2014: 456), can also indicate the repair of broken things like walls and buildings (cad k: 284–285; AHw: 461–462), and thus literally means “to repair what is broken”. For bandages used to healing broken bones, see Scurlock and Andersen 2005: 248. See paragraph 6.3.1.
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rēši that the rab kāri got struck by illness. The author of the letter observed the patient himself for a few days, but as the illness did not pass, he wrote the rab ša rēši to ask if the palace was informed, and to involve the asû of the palace.34 The direct environment thus played a significant role in the first responses to healing.
5.2
Folk Healing
Besides the lay sector, there is the folk sector, which from a cross-cultural perspective, is generally very heterogeneous. It consists of non-institutionalized healers offering all kinds of accessible services that sometimes overlap with those offered by the lay or popular sector as well as the professional sector. Folk healers do not undergo scholarly or formal, secretive training; rather, their knowledge is obtained through careful interaction with their environment and/or passed on from one generation to the other in families or “guilds.” Such folk healers are generally deeply rooted in local tradition and communities and are dependent on local communities to provide them legitimacy and a clientele. Also in Mesopotamia, these healers would probably have cared for the health of the population, especially the inhabitants of the countryside who had no access to respected and state-supported healers in the cities and at the royal court.35 The following section will bring to the fore several folk healers who served or may have served in the Mesopotamian medical marketplace, in order to shed light on the diversity and profusion of healers and the competition this spurred. As will be discussed below, these healers also had the opportunity to, beside their private practice, work for the state or temple in some form. Some of them even worked directly for and served as a close adviser to the king. Nevertheless, none of these occupations obtained access to the closed scholarly elite guarding its own knowledge that developed in the late 2nd millennium b.c.e. In this light, one would expect that folk healers would have been omitted in scholarly texts because they were competitors of the professional healers, and the latter would not want to draw attention to their rivals. Folk healers were, however, referred to in the textual material, including texts that represent the hegemonic worldview held by the professional, scholarly healers. They appear
34 35
en-li a-[na] ⸢lu₂a-zu⸣-ni ⸢li⸣-[iš-pu]-⸢ra⸣, “my lord should w[rit]e to our asû”, saa 19 38 rev. 3–5. See also Schwemer 2007: 133.
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in lexical texts (e.g. Lu), literary texts, and even in the lore of the āšipus, where they were presented as the opponents of the latter, which reflects the competition experienced by the scholars and their need to legitimize themselves.36 5.2.1 Specialists in Plants, Food and Healing The šim-mu₂, literally “plant grower”, is often presumed to be a priest equated with the āšipu.37 However, there is very little evidence for this, and outside the bilingual Old-Babylonian Udug-ḫul Forerunner Ni 2676+, which has šim-mu₂ as the Sumerian equivalent to the Akkadian āšipu,38 all evidence dates to the 1st millennium b.c.e.39 Geller (1985: 92–93) already pointed out that the original function of šim-mu₂ “may have been more pharmaceutical rather than exorcistic”, and mentions that, in light of it being an epithet of the healing goddesses, the function of “herbalist” would fit well with the healing goddesses’ role of a-zu.40 Robson (2008: 468–470) shares this interpretation and denies that the šim-mu₂ means “incantation priest” in the Old Babylonian period. She however sees šim-mu₂ as the same medical occupation as a-zu, both being terms used for (female, divine) healers, with the šim-mu₂ being a “high-register, archaising form” of the a-zu. As discussed in Chapter 4, this epithet of Ninisina and Bau, as well as Nintinuga, refers on the one hand to the healing goddesses’ allencompassing divine healing powers as well as the provision of life and healing, a divine and royal assignment, and on the other, to the knowledge of medicinal plants possessed by human healers. Nintinuga’s epithet šim-mu₂ tur₅-ra-ta, “šim-mu₂ to the sick”,41 demonstrates that this knowledge of plants was specifically related to healing, and alludes to the fact that šim-mu₂ was a mundane healing occupation, one who seemingly specialized in the medicinal properties of plants. The lexical tradition seems to support that the šim-mu₂ was a
36 37 38 39
40
41
See Part 3. E.g. cad a/1: 431; Hölscher 1996: 6, 23; Abrahami 2003; Sallaberger and Huber Vulliet 2005: 619; Groneberg 2007a: 97; Geller 2007d: 2–3; 2010a: 45–46. Geller 1985: 82–83, 138 (line 867); 2015: 293 (Udug-ḫul 8 24, exemplar oc). Šurpu 7 71–72; 1st millennium b.c.e. sources of Udug-ḫul 8 24 (Geller 2015: 293) as well as Udug-ḫul 3 125 (Geller 1985: 24; 2015: 115); and msl 12 133: 151 (Jean 2006: 26–27, 32; Geller 2007d: 2; 2010a: 45–46). See also Ceccarelli 2009: 36–37; Robson 2008: 468–470. See also Geller 2010a: 46. Also Charpin (2017: 52–56, 212) also assumes that šim-mu₂ was a healing occupation based on the divine title used for the healing goddesses (and therefore assumes that their temples functioned as a herboristerie), but states that there is no evidence for this in daily life texts. Reiner (1995: 25–42) gives an overview of the knowledge of herbalists in Mesopotamia, but does not discuss the professions that can be labeled as such. A Dog for Nintinuga line 9; see paragraph 4.4.
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non-priestly occupation closely related to the other healers, as from the 3rd millennium b.c.e. on it is mentioned in lexical lists with the the a-zu, as well as the i₃-ra₂-ra₂, “oil presser”, the munu₄-mu₂/bāqilu, “maltster”, and the šu-i, “barber, hairdresser”.42 More light is shed on the healing role of the šim-mu₂ through a study of its Akkadian equivalent raqqû, or Middle Assyrian muraqqiu (female form muraqqītu), which is translated “perfume maker”.43 It also can be written with i₃-ra₂-ra₂, the term for oil presser that is related to šim-mu₂ in lexical texts.44 The raqqû certainly was involved with healing, as is convincingly demonstrated by cusas 9 381, in which the i₃-ra₂-ra₂/raqqû is part of a group of asûs and thus functioned as some type of healer.45 Texts from the 3rd and 2nd millennia b.c.e. demonstrate that the raqqû/ muraqqiu and his female equivalent the muraqqītu were responsible for the reception and redistribution of oil and plants, as well as the delivery of the final product of perfumed oil and aromatics, which could have healing properties,46 in order of the state and palace administration.47 Weidner (1935–1936: 16–17) already mentioned that the muraqqius and muraqqītus working at the Assyrian court were not ordinary “Salbenmischer”, but due to their extranordinary knowledge of plants must have served as a sort of “Oberhofapotheker”. As they received small numbers of sheep, sometimes cattle, to care for or to fatten, Weidner (1935–1936: 17) suggests that they used the fat of the animals in medications. Muraqqītus and a rab muraqqiāte served the Assyrian king Tukultī-Ninurta i on his journeys, perhaps as healers.48 That their actions were
42
43 44 45
46 47
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sf 70 (ed Lu B, msl 12 13) obv. iii 19–21: šim-m[u₂] / munu₄-mu₂ / a:zu₅; ob Nippur Lu 689– 691 (see also Taylor 2001: 217 obv. iii 1′–4′, 225); cusas 12 5.2 rev. 7–10; see also Pomponio and Visicato 1994: 62–63 n. 15. For these being healing occupations, see below. Whiting 1987: 107–108; Sassmannshausen 2001: 84; Jakob 2003: 476–486; Geller 2007d: 2. See msl 12 137 lines 257–259; AhW: 958; cad r: 173–174; Sjöberg 1996: 119, 129; Molina 2014: 109; Brunke and Sallaberger 2010: 53. cusas 9 381 rev. 11′; see paragraph 6.1. A person named Aḫu-bani is called lu₂šim-mu₂ in Kassite administrative text be 15 178 i 11′; he is mentioned among ummânus, “craftsmen”, such as goldsmiths and seal cutters. Although speculative, since the terms are closely related, it may be offered that he could be the same person as the asû who copied a Kassite medical text bam 394 colophon line 37, who is also called Aḫu-bani (for this colophon, see Hunger 1968 no. 71; Sassmannshausen 2001: 72). Brunke and Sallaberger 2010: 61–62. See also Charpin 2017: 53. Whiting 1987: 107; Jakob 2003: 477–478; Brunke and Sallaberger 2010: 53; Molina 2014: 90 rev. 1. For the female šim-mu₂ in Fara/Šuruppak, see Pomponio and Visicato 1994: 62–63 n. 15, 71 no. 10 obv. i 5–7. marv 3 1 vi 11′ and 13′; Shibata 2015: 147 n. 31; Llop and Shibata 2016: 82.
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part of healing procedures is further confirmed by the fact that cognate verb ruqqû occurs in medical texts.49 Although the connection between the raqqû/muraqqiu and the knowledge of plants and aromatic substances is clear, they may also have had responsibilities in the religious realm that are reminiscent of his association with the āšipu in the Old Babylonian bilingual Udug-ḫul exemplar. A Middle Assyrian document records that a muraqqiu prepared and probably performed a sacrifice for the deity Šeru’a on the roof of the palace.50 The presence of specialists in botanical healing in the Mesopotamian marketplace is expected. The essential role of botanical knowledge in healing is articulated by Reiner (1995: 35–36), who stated that “it is important to know not only your roots and herbs, and what they are good for but also the proper time and manner for picking the herb, or digging up the root, so as to maximize its healing power and, not least, to guard against the evil consequences of your acts.” Also in Greek society, root-cutters and drug-sellers were crucial parts of pharmaceutical trade and the collection of medical knowledge.51 Another healer who may fit in this category is the cook. It has been pointed out that cooking recipes and medical recipes are closely associated, as the preparation of food and medicine requires similar ingredients, tools and techniques.52 Medicine often uses culinary ingredients, and medical prescriptions could potentially be styled as cooking recipes.53 Worthington (2003: 10) suggests that the kitchen with its available equipments and tools may have been the place to prepare medicaments. Cooks (muḫaldim/ nuḫatimmu), like asûs and gallābus, “barbers, hairdressers”, must have been
49 50 51 52
53
E.g. bam 3 iv 13; bam 503 ii 64; Labat 1959: 16 rev. 19; Geller 2007e: 12 line 67; see also Jakob 2003: 477. kaj 192, Jakob 2003: 485–486. Lang 2013: 217. Ritter 1965: 313; Worthington 2003: 9–11; Milano 2004. In their volume on the relationship between food and medicine, Lo et al. (2015) demonstrate that the interface of food and medicine and the pharmacological aspects of food-medicines are common themes across multiple contexts and cultures, and that already in antiquity there was only a porous boundary between the activities of the healer and the cook. See also Dalby (2003) for the healing properties of food in the ancient world. The archaeological, iconographical and textual evidence for the use of pottery to prepare food, perfumed oils, and medicine at late Bronze Age Tell Sabi Abyad is discussed by Duistermaat (2008: 447–468). Stol 1991–1992: 60, referring to bam 391 (cf. Worthington 2003: 9). For recipes on how to prepare medicaments and to extract drugs as “procedural instructions”, in which the instructions of making perfume and the techniques employed to make beer are also included, see Oppenheim 1988: 4–7; Böck 2008: 302; 2009: 127.
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skilled with knives. Although they are not found in a clear healing context, there is one reference to a nuḫatimmu handling a sheep that was later used for a ritual performed by an āšipu.54 Another occupation involved in food production, namely the munu₄-mu₄ or bāqilu, “maltster”, was associated with šimmu₂/i₃-ra₂-ra₂/raqqû and may potentially have played a role in healing.55 These workers were skilled in the process of malting and the growing of malt, which they delivered to brewers.56 There is no direct evidence of them performing healing, but due to their association with other healers (i.e. the šim-mu₂, i₃ra₂-ra₂, a-zu and šu-i) in lexical texts, it is possible that they could be consulted for healing. Or, perhaps it was not their actions, but their products that caused them to be associated with healing: malt, beer, a munu₄, “water from malt”, and pappasu, “groats”, which is the most significant by-product of malt, were used as carriers and ingredients in medical treatments.57 Pappasu plays a role in healing in the Kassite medical letter be 17 33, in which healer Šumu-libši states that a patient was offered pappasu, but was too ill to eat it.58 5.2.2 Clothes Menders or Stitchers: the lu₂tug₂-kal-kal-la/mukabbû The inclusion of the lu₂tug₂-kal-kal-la/mukabbû in a group of asûs in cusas 9 38159 indicates that performers of this occupation could also be associated with healing. Very little is known about this occupation, but it seems mainly to have been concerned with mending and repairing textiles.60 It is clear, however, that mukabbûs also stitched leather.61 Perhaps the healing practices they offered
54 55
56 57 58 59 60 61
nta a. 2617, although the relevant lines (5–8) are not fully understood (Jakob 2003: 399– 400, 529, 534). Although there is not enough evidence, one should consider the possibility that the alaḫḫennu, “baker”, who is associated with the muraqqiu in regard to the handling of animals (e.g. Jakob 2003: 386–394), and related professions (for an overview, see Milano 2004: 247) could have been involved in healing practices, due to their knowledge of food production and preparation (see also Weidner 1935–1936: 16–17; Jakob 2003: 378). Furthermore, hunters and shepherds should be considered as healers. Haas (1998; 2003: 135) has pointed out that, in many (including Hittite) societies, these occupations come with healing knowledge, such as the healing and magical properties of the body parts of animals, which is derived from a close interaction with and expertise in animals. Eg. Sassmannshausen 2001: 80; Jakob 2003: 405. E.g. cad b: 324; Stol 1989a: 328; Böck 2009; 2011: 698–699 (stating that malt functioned as a solid carrier and beer as a liquid carrier). be 17 33 obv. 7–9, Sibbing Plantholt 2014: 177. For the translation “groats” for pappasu, see Brunke 2011: 159–164. cusas 9 381 rev 12′, see paragraph 6.1. Ungnad 1917–1918: 260; AhW: 669; cad m/2: 181; Joannès 2010: 400; Waetzoldt 2013: 619. Joannès 2010: 400, 403, 405.
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were related to their ability to stitch the skin, or apply a needle to the body for other reasons, such as puncturing the skin for the free flow of liquids and performing procedures on the eye.62 5.2.3 Snake Handlers: the mušlaḫḫu The common translation “snake charmer” for muš-laḫ₄/₅/mušlaḫḫu conjures up the loose ethnographic representations of an exotic, mystical, perilous and pointless occupation found on Orientalist paintings of the late 19th century c.e., like the famous Le charmeur de serpents by Jean-Léon Gerôme (1879) that decorates the front cover of Edward Said’s Orientalism (1978, Pantheon Books).63 Especially the element of music speaks to the modern western imagination: the stereotype of a snake charmer is a squatted, turbaned, dark-skinned man who plays a wind instrument sitting across from a basket, enticing a snake to rise from it. In accordance with this Orientalist image, Gelb (1975: 60–61) described the Sumerian muš-laḫ₄, often translated “snake charmer”, as one who performed “in public places with snakes (such as cobras) to the accompaniment of soothing music”.64 However, performances with snakes and musical instruments are generally only found in South Asia and certain parts of North Africa, and not the Middle East.65 Also Corkill (1939) in his article on snake specialists in Iraq did not refer to any Iraqi snake charmers playing music, but rather described people who display their skill in handling snakes and practice folk medicine. The Sumerian term muš-laḫ₄ itself probably refers more to snake handling than charming: laḫ₄ is used for handling animals, and in the Fara/Šuruppak city administration, the mušlaḫḫu was grouped together with (other) lower-class craftsmen, among whom other animal handlers and catchers, such as the mušen-du₃, “birdcatcher” and utul “shepherd”, as well as the munu₄-mu₂, “maltster”, who may have been another type of healer.66 In order to move away from the presumption that muš-laḫ₄/mušlaḫḫus were exotic performers of a thrilling musical spectacle whose exercise was otherwise beyond
62 63 64 65 66
See paragraph 8.3.3. For a discussion of the modern western (in particular American) stereotype of the snake charmer as a product of Orientalism and the imagination of Otherness, see Racy 2016. Gelb (1975: 60–61) assumed that the muš-laḫ₄ performed with a musical instrument due to his association with the nar. Racy 2016: 198–200. Visicato 1995: 108, 130–131. On laḫ₄/₅ meaning to “drive” animals, see Bauer 1970–1971: 152; Gelb 1975: 60; Steinkeller 1979: 56–60; Sallaberger 2005: 557–558, 569–570. In a lexical text from Ebla, muš-laḫ₄ = za-ri₂-um, (ṣāriHum?), a word related to ṣerru, ṣēru, which probably is derived from the root ṣ-r-H, mee 4 740; Krebernik 1983: 28; see also Pientka-Hinz 2009: 214.
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utility, and to emphasize this occupations’s knowledge of handling and (catching) snakes, the translation “snake charmer” should be replaced with “snake handler”. That the mušlaḫḫu indeed handled and caught snakes is indirectly referred to in a popular saying or animal fable: peš₂ la-pa-an šik-ke-e ina ⸢ḫur-ri⸣ muš e-ru-ba um-ma muš-laḫ₄ iš-pur-anni šul-mu A mouse (fleeing) from a mongoose, entered the hole of a snake. He said: “A mušlaḫḫu sent me, greetings!”67 While running from one enemy into the den of the next, the mouse tries to survive by posing as the envoy of the latter’s worst opponent: the mušlaḫḫu. The fable further associates the mušlaḫḫu with the mongoose, the natural nemesis of the snake. This fierce little animal knows the snake’s behavior and weaknesses, and how to subdue or kill him, a similar role to what the mušlaḫḫu may have had. Mušlaḫḫus handled snakes when they removed them from houses and temples, which must have been everyday’s business, as incantations and omina have plenty of references to houses infested with snakes: snakes slithered through doors and windows, lurked in drainpipes, hid in holes and beams, and fell from roofs.68 The problem of snakes in temples is alluded to by several sources.69 An Ur iii administrative text shows that a temple sweeper was bitten by a snake, which he probably encountered while sweeping the temple courtyard.70 In the Agum-Kakrime inscription it is mentioned that a mušlaḫḫu purified (ullulu) the Esagil.71 This must mean that he freed it from snakes, both physical ones and
67 68
69 70 71
kar 174: 19–20, Lambert 1960: 216–217. For the mongoose, see Heimpel 1995. See for instance Šumma ālu Tablet 22–26 and parallels [Freedman 2006b: 3–129]; kal 1 nos. 9–15 (see also Freedman 2006a and Pientka-Hinz 2009: 212; 2010 for snake omina); Heimpel 1968: 466 no. 81.2; Maul 1994: 3, 5, 270–303 (for snakes in Namburbis and snakes in houses); Cavigneaux 1995; Finkel 1999: 224–229; George 2009: 156; Pientka-Hinz 2009: 211; and the Aluzinnu-Text discussed in paragraph 7.2.3. Corkill (1939: 49) also describes that Iraqi snake handlers were regularly employed to remove snakes from gardens and houses. For this role of snake handlers and catchers in South Asia, see Lorea 2018: 261. See also Astour 1968: 17, 36, who assumes that the occupation mušlaḫḫu was performed by members of the “priestly guild”. tcti 2 3567 obv. 1–4, see paragraph 5.1. u₃ e₂-sag-il₂ mit-ḫa-riš muš-laḫ₅ lu u₂-ul-li-lu-ma, “a mušlahḫu purified the Esagil all over”, Agum-kakrime 5R 33 v 14–16.
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evil forces represented by them, possibly through fumigation and zoological and botanical deterrents.72 A similar role may have been taken up by muš-laḫ₅gal Balul, who was part of the initiation of the temples that Ur-Nanše built, and is depicted on two plaques commemmorating this.73 This is the only identifiable iconographical representation of a snake handler, and if it was not for his title, which accompanies his depiction, he would not have been recognizeable as a snake handler: his appearance is similar to the other servants, he only is depicted larger. The significant role that Balul played in the commemoration of the building of these temples may be explained through his involvement in catching and removing snakes during the building process as well as before and during the opening of the temple. As is known from modern snake handlers, the ability to catch and handle a snake in a way that they are not dangerous to humans comes with extensive practical and traditional knowledge of local snakes (i.e. their habitat, appearance, behavior), as well as how to make them harmless and what the effects of their bites could be in order to properly treat these if they occur.74 This suggests that the mušlaḫḫus possessed valuable healing knowledge. That mušlaḫḫus performed some kind of healing and thus probably treated snake bites is alluded to in the proximity of these healers and their art, the mušlaḫḫūtu, to other healing occupations and knowledge. Mušlaḫḫus are mentioned with other healers as part of a group of specialists deported from Egypt by Esarhaddon, which includes for instance the mašmaššu, and munaʾʾišu.75 Mušlaḫḫūtu, is associated in a lexical list with the asûtu and bārûtu, and the gallābūtu, the art of the barber/hairdresser, another folk healer: [nam]-⸢pa⸣.gišgal (=zilulu) : zi-⸢lu-lu⸣-[tu₂] [nam]- ⸢muš-laḫ₄-laḫ₄⸣ : ⸢muš-la⸣-ḫ[u-tu₂] (single ruling) ⸢nam⸣-a-zu : a-⸢su⸣-[tu₂]
72
73
74
75
Compare the actions of the Psylloi, a Libyan tribe associated with snakebite immunity, who were free-moving healers in the medical community of Italy and Greece from the mid 1st century ce on (Phillips 1995 [especially page 396]; Buchholz 2000: 48; Nutton 2013: 258; Jones-Lewis 2016: 19–201). faos 5/1 Urnanše 20 (ao 2344, Braun-Holzinger 1991: 308 [W1]; rime.1.9.1.2 lower caption 4) and faos 5/1 Urnanše 22 (eş 401, Braun-Holzinger 1991: 308–309 [W3]; rime.1.9.1.4 seg. captions, 2). See also Cooper 1980: 94; Glassner 2003: 119. Corkill 1939; Lorea 2018; see further Finkel 1999: 223–229 for allusions to this in Mesopotamian snake incantations. For an overview of the types of treatments for snake bites that can be recognized in the cuneiform record, see Pientka-Hinz 2009: 212–213. rinap 4 Esarhaddon 9 i 9′–11′; see paragraph 5.2.6.
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[nam]- ⸢azu⸣ ⸢nam⸣-šu-i ⸢nam⸣-muḫaldim
: ba-[ru-tu₂] : gal-l[a-bu-tu₂] : n[u-ḫa-ti-im-mu-tu₂]76
Through the association with zilullûtu, “the art of the peddler”,77 this passage also suggests that mušlaḫḫus were traveling, low status healers who looked for clients or who made it possible for clients to easily approach them while walking in the streets, and perhaps the countryside.78 The important role of mušlaḫḫus in the folk and domestic sphere is revealed through the proverb of the mouse, as well as a badly damaged amulet that corresponds to the Ḫulbazizi incantation ša malṭi eršiya ittiqu, “he who transgresses the privacy of my bed”.79 Wiggermann (2007: 106–108; 2011b: 313–314) has demonstrated that the amulet depicts a patient who points, seemingly in terror, to a snake attacking from under the bed, while catchers try to pierce it. He points out that the snake here represents an evil and fear that torments people in frightening dreams, but this mythological fight is based on something mundane and recognizable in day-to-day life: man’s effort to overpower the snake and render it harmless.80 The folk embodiment of this process in real life, which plays an important role in daily life, was probably the mušlaḫḫu. One of the techniques mušlaḫḫus used to take control of snakes and handle them in a way that rendered them harmless while keeping them alive, was cutting or removing the snakes teeth, as is learned from the beginning of a broken Old Babylonian proverb: muš-laḫ₅-e muš an-da-gal₂ zu₂ mu-ra-ze₂-X […]
76
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rm 2, 34 (izi = išatu Q, msl 13 222) i′ 1′–6′. For a picture of the tablet, see the cdli website https://cdli.ucla.edu/dl/photo/P423617.jpg, visited on 2 July 2019; see also the edition by J. Peterson on ⟨oracc.museum.upenn.edu/dcclt/akk⟩, visited on 2 July 2019. The zilullû is equated with the saḫḫiru, the “one who goes around, peddler” (SpBTU 3 116 rev. ii 40′; cusas 12 2.1.3 app. rev. i 7′–8′; see also msl 15 no. 39a line 288). For the mušlaḫḫu walking around in the streets, see also CMAwR 8.27, 1: 25 (=kar 26 obv. 25). Wiggermann 2007: 106 with fig. 2; 2011b: 313–314 with fig. 6. For the translation of malṭi eršiya as “privacy of my bed”, see Wiggermann 2007: 106–108. Snakes represent evil and chaos that enters the civilized world from the desert. For evil snakes trying to enter the human world (and the bodies of humans), see for instance Veldhuis 1993a: 167; Pientka-Hinz 2010. For snakes bearing similarities to chaos-bringing monsters, see Cunningham 1997: 91, 105. The struggle between mankind and snakes is already depicted on seals from the Uruk period (Rova 2006: fig. 9). For the fear of snakes and snake handling in ancient Egypt and the ancient Near East at large, see for instance Leitz 1996, Schipper 2009; Steiner 2011; for Syria, see Buchholz 2000.
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a mušlaḫḫu grabbed a snake. He pulled out a tooth …81 Other ways to subdue the snake are encapsulated in (Old Babylonian) incantations, such as getting a grip behind the head of the snake,82 catching it with a net, and binding its teeth, mouth and tongue.83 George (2016: 107) suggests that the rubric ka-inim-ma muš-ti-la-ke₄ could be translated as “incantation formula for a live snake”, and ka-inim-ma muš dab₅-be₂-da-kam as “incantation to catch hold of a snake”, thus indicating the actions of overpowering a live snake and handling it without being bitten.84 The speaking of snake incantations could in itself be considered snake handling: the imitation of a snake language or sound through the often frequent repetition of sibilants in incantations might have allowed the snake handler to calm down and catch the snake.85 81
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cbs 6565: 3–4, Veldhuis 2000: 395–396 fig. 2. This passage corresponds with the common ability of snake handlers to extract venom and cut a snake’s fangs, which will grow back in a few weeks, without damaging the snakes venom glands (Lorea 2018: 267). In handling live snakes, controlling a snake’s head is essential. For stepping on and crushing the snake’s head, see Reiner and Civil 1967: 184; Heimpel 1968: 467–471 (especially page 469); Pientka-Hinz 2009: 214. Stroking the snake under the chin is a common action performed by snake handlers and charmers in other cultures, and could also render a snake harmless if certain plants or oils are used to numb the jaws. This action, perhaps performed in domestic or temple snake cults, may be demonstrated in a scene depicted on Mesopotamian seals (Collon 1987: no. 756; Wiggermann 1997: 36, 54 fig. 5c) as well as in a curious Old Akkadian sculpted group from a private house in Tell Asmar (oip 60: 331 plate 70; Mayer-Opificus 1979: 57–60; Wiggermann 1997: fig. 2b). The latter, which depicts a figure stretching out his hand and touching under the chin of a mušḫuššu (under which crawls a real snake), may have been part of a domestic cult. Examples of snake shrines or models of snake shrines in which snakes were kept are a pot with cover that contained animals bones and may have held live snakes that was found in a structure labeled the “Snake Shrine” at Tell Asmar (oip 63: 121–122, plates 128 a+b, 129; oip 88: 208–209, plate 80; see also von der Osten-Sacken 2009: 220), and a model snake shrine of unknown provenance (Douglas van Buren 1930: 248 no. 1218 fig. 299). This shrine represents a temple precinct with an inner sanctuary in which three snakes lie with their heads resting on cushions, seemingly waiting to be fed. See further Buchholz 2000: 55–57; von der Osten-Sacken 2009: 220. For snakes caught and/or handled and kept in sacred contexts in ancient and modern cultic settings, see Ogden 2013: 347–382. E.g. cusas 32 no. 2 (ms 4549/2), edited by Rudik 2020 (Early Dynastic); cusas 32 41 ii.D.3; Van Dijk 1969: 542; Cavigneaux 1995: 92–95; Jeffers 1996: 31–32; Cunningham 1997: 88; Finkel 1999: 223–234 (especially im 51292); Cavigneaux and al Rawi 2002: 36–37; PientkaHinz 2009: 214; see also Astour 1968: 18–19. For an overview of snake incantations, see Steinert 2018b: 250. See also Pientka-Hinz 2009: 212. For examples of handling snakes, see further Heimpel 1968: 467–471. Jeffers 1996: 71, 74; Hurowitz 2004. An illustration of how important incantations and
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The abovementioned sources make evident that mušlaḫḫus must have been skilled in catching, handling and touching snakes, which likely went hand in hand with the ability to recognize and treat the bites of different snakes. Such expertise could have been used to heal snake bites, which would be in accordance with the proximity of the mušlaḫḫus to other healers. Snake bites were treated with the use of stones, bandages and poultices, potions, and accompanying incantations.86 Although the Oriental image of the flute-playing snake charmer as described at the beginning of this section, which is influenced by elements from India, is an inaccurate portrait of the Mesopotamian mušlaḫḫu, there was indeed an element of performance involved in snake handling. That mušlaḫḫus may have taken part in public acts is alluded to in their proximity to other types of performers (such as the u₄-da-tuš, gala and nar) in 3rd millennium b.c.e. sources.87 Snake handlers and catchers across cultures often perform to demonstrate their knowledge of, immunity to, skills with, and mastery over snakes, and as a result, they could obtain superhuman qualities and a subsequent special status. Modern public performances of snake handlers include being covered by snakes, being bitten by snakes, and even swallowing snakes to demonstrate that they are immune to their poison. The fact that the snake handlers and charmers are not effected by snake bites themselves is not just the result of immunity due to frequent snake bites, as has been suggested for mušlaḫḫus,88 but rather their specialized knowledge of how to extract the snake’s poison and cut or extract their fangs (which, as mentioned above, is mentioned in Mesopotamian sources) in order to render the animals harmless.89 Snake handlers can also do healing demonstrations with the latter, during which someone pretends to be bitten and “dies”, only to be revived on stage by the snake han-
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“speaking” to snakes may have been, especially in case of unknown snakes, is offered by Steiner (2011: 1–14, 77–82) in the context of ancient Egypt. He points out that some of the serpent spells in the Egyptian Pyramid texts are Semitic because these incantations are directed towards snakes from the Levant that have come to Egypt as stowaways on ships, hidden in wooden logs. These foreign snakes would not have understood the Egyptian spells and thus to counter them, they needed to be addressed in a language they would understand. Effective incantations against foreign snakes may have been particularly important because the nature, behavior, and effect of the potion of these snakes would not be known to the local healers, and incantations may have been only way to counter them or render them harmless. Steinert 2018b: 249–250. Gelb 1975: 54–57, 60–61; see also Rumor 2017: 187–188 with footnote 3, 193. E.g. Astour 1968: 18; Sassmannshausen 2001: 66. Lorea 2018.
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dler through administering medication and acts of magic.90 This process is also known from other historical settings, such as the Psylloi in Roman society,91 and the Pauliani, snake handlers who sold their products while surrounded by snakes on marketplaces in 16th century c.e. Italy.92 Public performances were thus not only opportunities to exhibit the skill and inherent power carried in the snake handler’s bodies, but it also gave them a chance to demonstrate the efficacy of their remedies in order to sell them. Mušlaḫḫus may have had stature as healers because they were specialized in dealing with a cunning animal that represented the art of healing. Snakes not only formed a daily threat to health, but also could represent healing, and had special knowledge of healing, rejuvenation, and life-giving herbs.93 Snakes in general are marginal animals associated with both life and death: their venom can be deadly, yet they can heal and have medical knowledge; they are able to enter the earth and thus the Netherworld,94 yet also to return from it.95 This liminality makes them a suitable embodiment of renewing life, recovery, and healing.96 The medical knowledge of the snake is described in the Standard Babylonian version of the Epic of Gilgameš, in which the snake is able to smell the odor of the plant of life as well as to recognize the healing and revitalizing properties of this plant that is supposed to give Gilgameš repeated rejuvenation.97 The serpent’s slough, that in the Gilgameš Epic is discarded by the snake from the moment it ate the plant of life, represents the renewal of life and health.
90 91 92 93 94 95
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Lorea 2018: 255. For the Psylloi, see earlier this paragraph; for the Psylloi performing, see Jones-Lewis 2016: 201–202. Park 2001. Henkelman 2010: 340–341 and Ogden 2013: 245–249 for the widespread notion (especially in folk-tales) that the snake has knowledge of magical herbs. See also George 2003: 525. For snakes as “children of the Earth” and the notion that the Netherworld is well populated by snakes in Graeco-Roman sources, see Ogden 2013: 247–248. For the many dead but returning heroes and deities associated with snakes in the Mediterranean world, see for instance Mettinger 2001; Smith 2008: 112–114; Ogden 2013: 247–270, 310–346. In various cultures, the venom and saliva of snakes are attributed healing powers. Snakes “licking” or biting afflicted body parts or snakes coiling along sick body parts to facilitate contact with the snake’s skin and the (sacred) slime it excretes, are (and were) used as healing treatments, often as part of the cult of ophidian healing deities, see for instance Edelstein and Edelstein 1998 [1945]: 2 167; Ogden 2013: 343–345, 367–370. See also Fuhr 1977. Standard Babylonian Gilgameš Epic 11 283–307, George 2003: 720–723.
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Although mušlaḫḫus must have been the most important opponents of snakes, other healers were also able to heal the bites of snakes. As discussed in paragraph 5.1, snake bites could also be healed in the lay sector.98 That asûs could also heal snake bites is recorded in the Laws of Ur-Namma, where the fee to be paid to an asû for healing the bite of an ušumgal-snake appears to be regulated.99 Another healer potentially related to mušlaḫḫu who would be expected in Mesopotamia is the scorpion handler, catcher or charmer. In particular omina and incantations demonstrate that scorpions, which find many places to hide in and around the house and are so easily accidentally stepped on, were (and still are) as much a daily threat as snakes.100 The scorpion handler or charmer is a healer for instance attested in ancient Egypt: the ḫrp šrḳt served (fellow) workmen in Deir el-Medina who had been bitten by scorpions, as well as snakes.101 Cures against the scorpion and snake bite are often mentioned together in the Mesopotamian medical scholarly literature,102 but there is no clear indication that the catching and handling of scorpions or curing their stings was performed by mušlaḫḫus. Nontheless, the healing of scorpion stings may well have taken place in the lay sector. 5.2.4 Barbers and Hairdressers: The šu-i/gallābu As already mentioned in the previous paragraphs, barbers or hairdressers, who were also known to be prominent health care providers in more recent societies,103 were healers in ancient Mesopotamia. Gallābu, šu-i in Sumerian, is often translated as “barber”, but Bauer (1989–1990: 81) already pointed out that this translation does not fully encompass the range of the activities of this occupation. Barbers cut the hair and facial hair of men, the šu-i/gallābus certainly served women: they regularly belonged to the entourage of the daughters of rulers, and the occupation could also be performed by women. Throughout the 3rd millennium b.c.e., already from the Early Dynastic period on, refer-
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Perhaps the wise woman also was able to repel venomous animals; in Pharaonic Egypt, the rḫt, “knowledgeable woman”, a healer consulted mostly in the private sphere to mediate between the human and supernatural world, could also repel venomous animals (Lang 2013: 214–216). See paragraph 6.3.1. Eg. Veldhuis 1993a; Cavigneaux 1995; Finkel 1999: 234–241; Pientka 2004. Janssen 1980; Lang 2013: 208, 212–213. See for instance amc part 2 line 78 (Steinert 2018b: 215); kar 44 line 19 (Geller 2018b: 299, 306); see further Steinert 2018b: 250. For barber-surgeons in Europe during the medieval and early modern periods, see for instance Siraisi 1990; Chamberland 2009.
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ences were made to the munusšu-i, “female hairdresser”,104 who undoubtedly (also) served female clients. Therefore the translation “hairdresser” would be more accurate. Other terms for this or similar occupations that rarely occur are kinda(gal), which appears mostly in literary and lexical texts and may have been an official position more than an occupation,105 and the šu-i-gi-na, which from the Old Babylonian period on is included in lexical lists.106 Its syllabic spelling šuʾiginakku occurs in the Middle Babylonian period to indicate a special kind of hairdresser in lexical and administrative lists, and perhaps in Kassite family names.107 The šuʾiginakku was engaged in the ritual shaving of priests, and also shaved off the hair of Gimil-Ninurta in “The Poor man of Nippur” to make him look like an asû.108 In later lexical traditions, munsub, which is associated with asû in the Old Babylonian period, was equated with gallābu.109 Only the šu-i/gallābu-hairdressers are relatively well attested in the textual record, and there is evidence that they performed acts of healing. Evidence from the Ur iii until the 1st millennium b.c.e. shows that šui/gallābus could have been of high status. They could work for the temple as šu-i of deities, they could be involved with judiciary matters and collect taxes, they could hold high-ranking positions, and they could work for the king directly, as for instance evidenced in the title šu-i lugal.110 The latter must have been high
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E.g. Selz 1993: 215 (no. 18 6: 6), 582 (no. 86 8: 11); 664 (no. 120 9: 2–6, in which a man and a woman are designated with šu-i₂-me, “they are hairdressers”); Bauer 1989–1990: 81. For Old Akkadian references, see oaic 22: 2 and potentially cusas 19 173 obv. 6′, in which the title šu-i is born by a person with a feminine name; for a similar situation in an Old Babylonian source, see AbB 14 155: 20. A munusšu-i and munusdub-sar were paid wages among other (guruš/geme₂) workers in an Ur iii account (Oppenheim 1948: C1 ii 10 and 12 [pl. vii]). Kindagal = gallabu, see msl 16 176 i 10; Mayer 2001: 146 no. 81: 10′ for kinda = gallabu, see msl 3 116: 234. Damu, who is also the a-zu-gal of Enlil, is kindagal₂ of Enlil in the Nippur Lament line 242 (Tinney 1996: 114–115, 174; etcsl 2.2.4, see also Chapter 4.2). See also Proverbs collection 2 + 6 2.55 (etcsl 6.1.2). The kinda (Visicato 1995: 80 no. 214 ii 5; 130– 131) and ugula kinda (Visicato 1995: 26–27 no. 187 iii 10, 54–55) occur in Fara administrative texts as part of the city administration and were responsible for artisan and productive activity (Visicato 1995: 1). A kinda₂ occurs in a Fara text with copper materials (wf 147 rev. ii 1–2; see Visicato 1995: 80). ob proto-Lu 88 (msl 12 36). See for instance dumu I lu₂šu-i-gi-na-ki; pbs 2/2 116: 8; Sassmannshausen 2001: 9. See also Gurney 1953 no. 26: 6. See further the lexical section in cad š/3: 211–212. Borger 1973: 164 lines 5–6; Gurney 1956; 1972; Cooper 1975: 173; for the shaving of priests and the elite, see below. munsub₂: min (= gal-la-bu), msl 16 176 i 9, see further AhW: 274; see also Stol 2000: 172 n. 11 and 13, and paragraph 6.2.2. For the Ur iii period, see Kleinerman 2013: 303–307; for the Old Babylonian period, see Harris 1975: 83–84, 165; Pientka 1998: 350; AbB 9 109: 6–9 (šu-i lugal); for the Middle Baby-
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ranking officials and people in whom the king placed great confidence, as they handled a sharp knife around the king’s throat.111 They were indeed perceived as a threat, as omina mention the possibility of the royal šu-i seizing the throne.112 The Ur iii evidence shows that the šu-i performed shaving and grooming, and were involved with bathing and perhaps healing; also administrative, legal and ritual texts from the 2nd and 1st millennia b.c.e. record that šu-i/gallābus could be employed by the state and the palace, and that shaving and cutting the hair of rulers, priests, bārûs, temple functionaries, and slaves was an important task of theirs.113 That they were involved in ritual settings is also evidenced by a letter that mentions that they took part in mourning rituals (er₂-ḫi-a).114 Their healing role is only rarely directly referred to, but a telling source is Mari letter arm 26 282, in which the author describes to his overlord that his foot hurts so badly that he cannot walk, and he had to be carried on a bed to the house of a gallābu.115 This may tie in with the Middle Babylonian reference šu-i gig, “the šu-i of the sick”.116 Šu-i/gallābus may also have treated scalp afflictions caused by ectoparasites, if a late Achaemenid work agreement is correctly understood.117
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lonian and Middle Assyrian periods, see Sassmannshausen 2001: 98–99; Jakob 2003: 409, 476; for the 1st millennium b.c.e., see Waerzeggers and Jursa 2008: 20–22 and saa 10 209 rev. 6–7, in which the royal āšipu Adad-šumu-uṣur recommends that the Neo-Assyrian king see his hairdresser (be-li₂ lu₂šu-i-su le-pu-us). Kleinerman (2013: 304–305) lists the evidence from all Ur iii centers, in particular Puzriš-Dagan and Garšana, where barbers had significant administrative authority in the role of maškim. They had their own house (e₂šu-i-e-ne), where they received commodities and oversee transactions for high-ranking officials and ritual purposes. Kleinerman 2013: 308, who therefore proposes that the šu-i’s task of shaving was a secondary duty that high-ranking officials obtained through being part of the royal circle. kar 428: 49; yos 10 25: 66 (see also cad g: 15). Texts from Iri-Sagrig allude to the šu-i performing services in bathing places with equipments like bath stools (giššu₄-a) and wood to heat the bath water (Kleinerman 2013: 306– 308). In Puzriš-Dagan, the šu-i acted as conveyor of gifts delivered for healing and bathing, which likely reflects his own activities (Sollberger 1956: 30 no. 9; Sallaberger 1999: 251; Paoletti 2012: 83, 261; Kleinerman 2013: 305). For shaving practices of the šu-i/gallābu, see for instance Laws of Hammurabi §§226–227; Waerzeggers and Jursa 2008; Kleinerman 2013: 303. AbB 12 61; see Van Driel 2005: 52; Westenholz and Westenholz 2006: 3–81; Kleinerman 2013: 303. a-na e₂ šu-i i-na gišna₂-ma i-na-aš-šu-ni-in-ni, arm 26 282: 9–10; Durand 1988: 582–583; Heimpel 2003: 283. For diseases of the foot, see paragraph 5.1. dumu I šu-i gig, cbs 10971 rev. 12; see Clay 1912: 133 (who interpreted it as a personal name); cad g: 16; Joannès 1995. In uet 4 57: 5–7 (with duplicate uet 4 58: 15: 20), a group of gallābus may be assigned to treat garbanūtu. The term garbanūtu could refer to people suffering from a disease of the
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There is no detailed description of the techniques or healing practices of the gallābus, one can imagine them having used the instruments with which they cut and shaved hair.118 The instrument inherently connected to the occupation of the gallābus, namely the naglabu, was indeed used in healing.119 Besides making incisions, shaving the body of the patient was a part of medical procedures, like before a bandage was applied, as the phrase qaqqassu tugallab tarakkas/taṣammid, “you shave his head and apply a bandage (to him)”, demonstrates.120 Furthermore, medical texts deal with the treatment of hair, including premature whitening of the hair or hair falling out.121 An association between the hairdresser and hair-related health issues can be drawn as well through a Namburbi that may refer to a hairdresser removing lice.122 What is also evident is that the practice of šu-i/gallābus touched upon that of asûs, with whom they has several things in common. Gallābus performed their services of shaving, bathing, and medical procedures for the entire population, including the king, something that was also the case for asûs.123 Moreover, like asûs, šu-i/gallābus may have had specialists in certain body parts.124 The lexical entries šu-i sag-ga₂-na, šu-i egir-ra and šu-i gu₂-na, which respectively refer to the šu-i of the head, back and neck, may indicate that some were renowned for their experience with shaving and/or treating certain parts of the body.125 And most importantly, the instruments and procedures of šu-i/gallābus and asûs seem to have partly overlapped. Making incisions was also performed by asûs, as is evident in, for instance, the regulations of cutting practice by
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scalp caused by lice or other creatures (and not, as suggested by the cad g: 17, to “lepers”, see Stol 1987–1988: 29). In medical texts, garābu is associated with the head, as well as with uḫ, “lice” (stt 92 iii 7′–8′; bam 297: 19–20). For garābu as a skin affliction, see also Scurlock and Andersen 2005: 232, 722–724. It can be caused by a parasite (Landsberger 1934: 39 line 4; Labat 1966: 233). Goetze (1955: 13) and Labat (1966: 233) assume that it is scabies. However, Joannès (1995) has postulated that gar-ba-nu-u₂-tu (uet 4 57: 5–7 // uet 4 58: 15: 20) should be read ša₂ ba-nu-u₂-tu, which would then refer to a gallābu and ša-banûti prebend (i.e. inspection of good [health] conditions?); this approach is followed by Jursa (2005: 134). For this passage, see also Waerzeggers and Jursa 2008: 21. E.g. cad g: 17; Geller 2010a: 53, 60–61. For the use of knives in medical practice, see paragraph 8.3.3. See for instance ugu 1 (Worthington 2005: 24; Geller and Panayotov 2020: 206–228; Worthington 2005: 24 refers besides medical texts also to saa 10 335: 2′–5′, a letter in which this therapy is described). E.g. ugu 1 lines 141′–189′, see Worthington 2005: 20–21, 27–28. up-li₂-šu₂ lu₂šu (= lu₂šu-i?) tum₃-ma, Maul 1994: 490 line 78, with footnote 25; cad u/W: 181. See also below in paragraph 6.2.2. See Chapter 6. For various types of asûs, see Chapter 6. ob proto-Lu 85–87 (msl 12 36); Nig₂-ga bil. A v 14 (msl 13 114).
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asûs in the Laws of Hammurabi.126 The fact that the paragraphs regarding asûs are directly followed by those concerning šu-i/gallābus indicates that the two occupations were closely associated.127 This is further evidenced in the lexical tradition; see for instance in early versions of the series Lu, in which azu₅and šu-i are mentioned next to each other,128 and in a 1st millennium b.c.e. lexical list, where asûtu and gallābūtu (as well as bārûtu) are associated.129 The occupations may even be joined together in the hybrid term a-zu₅ munsub as attested in a Fara/Šuruppak text.130 Their similarities may have caused these occupations to experience antagonism; this will be discussed in paragraph 8.3.3. 5.2.5 Female Healers As already described in the passage on lay healing, women play a pivotal role in healing, especially in the domestic lay context, but also beyond.131 Although female healing figures are underrepresented in the Mesopotamian sources at our disposal, a number of subtle and explicit references to women in the context of healing can yet be identified. In sources from the 3rd and early 2nd millennia b.c.e. several healing-related occupations discussed in this work can be detected that could be performed by women, such as asû, gallābu, mušlaḫḫu, and raqqû/muraqqiu. Other occupations are more specifically tied to the female gender. A female health care worker that is clearly recognizable in the textual record is the midwife. Pregnancy, birth, reproduction, and pre-and postnatal care historically fall within her realm, although throughout history, scholars and professional healers have tried to make this knowledge their own.132 Across cultures, the midwife is experienced in women’s (reproductive) health, labor, and delivery, advises on fertility and contraception, provides pre- and postnatal and postpartum care to mothers and newborns, provides massages, baths, herbal remedies, and child care for her patients before and during labor, and performs household tasks during labor and after delivery.133 In addition, she takes care of the sick
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See paragraph 6.3. See also Attinger 2008: 73. ed Lu E: 47–48 (msl 12 17), see also Attinger 2008: 73; ob proto-Lu 84–94 (msl 12 36). rm 2, 34 (Izi Tablet Q, msl 13 222) i′ 3′–5′, see paragraph 5.2.3. sf 70 obv. iii 5; see paragraph 6.2.2. E.g. Shepherd-McClain 1989; Clarke and Olesen 1999. see Part 3. Finerman 1989; see also Martha Ballard in 18th century New England (Thatcher Ulrich 1990).
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in both her own family and the families of others, sometimes for pay, but often for free.134 Consequently, she belongs to both the lay and the folk sectors. Also in Mesopotamia, these matters were likely the domain of the midwife. Civil (2011: 282) stated that the duties of the latter were “not limited to the parturition but extending all through the pregnancy, administering the physical preparations and care given to pregnant women in traditional societies; massages and manipulations presumed to place the fetus in a favorable position for birth, dilation of the cervix by the insertion of certain plants or stones, etc.” The midwife in Mesopotamia was the šabšūtu,135 Sumerian ša₃-zu, “the one who knows the inside”.136 Because the ša₂-zu/šabšūtu is associated with the gallābu, “hairdresser”, in lexical texts,137 it has been proposed that the šabšūtu shaved the private parts of a woman in labor, or that she shaved the newborn on the 7th day after birth in a ritual similar to the Islamic ʾaqīqah ceremony.138 It is, however, also possible that šabšūtus were linked to gallābus because both were perceived as healing occupations. Like gallābus, šabšūtus, knew how to use knives on the body, as the birthing process can require cutting practices, such as cutting the umbilical cord.139 Several other terms for types of midwives or female occupations that touch on midwifery and wetnursing should be considered as healers and care providers for women, newborn, and children, such as the nu-gig/qadištu, the nadītu, “midwife”, the um-me, um-me-ga-lal/mušēniqtu, “wetnurse”, and um-me-da/ tārītu, “nursemaids”.140 Midwives and wetnurses could serve clients and patients from all socio-economic backgrounds. Next to being supported by the
134 135 136 137 138 139 140
Sumich 2013: 91. See Stol (2000: 171–190) for a list of terms designating women assisting in childbirth. Kienast 1975: 243; Stol 2000: 171, Heeßel 2006: 12. msl 12 124; cad g: 16–17; Von Soden 1957–1958: 120; van Dijk 1963: 77; Stol 2000: 172. Kienast 1975: 244 and Stol 2000: 172 respectively. Stol 2000: 141–144. See also Beckman 1993: 38–39 for Hittite midwives and wise women being healers. For these occupations, see Von Soden 1957–1958; Renger 1967b: 181, Steinkeller 1981: 88– 90; Westenholz 1989: 250–260; Stol 2000: 112, 116, 171–192; Schwemer 2007: 77; Civil 2011: 251, 281–284; Steinert 2014: 358–359; Karahashi 2017. The latter concluded that um-me-da could refer to different occupations in Presargonic Lagaš and the Laws of Ur-Namma. Civil (2011: 281–284) and Karahashi (2017: 160–161) demonstrate that nu-gig/qadištu can mean “midwife”; see also Ninisina A lines 74–82, discussed in paragraph 4.2. The nu-gig/qadištu and nadītu have often been translated as “prostitute” (Von Soden 1957–1958; Kienast 1975: 243; Lambert 1992: 137–143; Jakob 2003: 538–540) but this is unwarranted, see the discussion by Civil 2011: 281–284 and Karahashi 2017. See also Westenholz 1989: 260–263. For the nu-gig/qadištu in Old Babylonian period (working for palace and temple), see Renger 1967b: 180–182.
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state administration, they could work independently and be hired by private persons; in the Laws of Ur-Namma, the wages of nu-gig, ša₃-zu, um-me-da and um-me-ga-lal were regulated.141 Documents from Lagaš, Nippur, Ebla and Urkeš dating to the 2nd half of the 3rd millennium b.c.e. reveal that wetnurses and midwives could have a relatively high socio-economic status, and many (elite) wetnurses and midwives worked independently and possessed substantial economic means.142 Some, such as the um-me-da lugal, “nursemaid of the king”, worked directly for the elite or even the king, the queen, and other members of the royal family, with whom they could have an intimate relationship;143 this, together trust, is the basis for a patient-healer relationship. Another occupation that should be considered as a potential (women) health care provider is the geme₂kar-kid₃, Akkadian ḫarimtu, “prostitute”.144 Based on cross-cultural comparisons with other societies, prostitutes may have had extensive knowledge of the male and female body, sexual reproduction, contraception, and abortion, and in addition to assisting in birth, could provide health care for their clients and other women.145 There is no concrete evidence for this assumption, but a hint towards an association between the geme₂kar-kid₃ and other healers can be found in the palace administration of Fara/Šuruppak. Here the ša₃-zu, the nu-gig, the geme₂kar-kid₃ represented sections of mostly female lower- or mid-ranking workers who carried out their activities in the same administrative sector.146 The group of workers of the geme₂kar-kid₃ also contained the botanical healer šim-mu₂, whose work thus probably was connected in some way to that of the geme₂kar-kid₃.147 What exact role these workers played in the palace administration is not certain, but they may well have been involved with health care and midwifery. The Old Assyrian corpus presents a picture in which the performance of incantations and healing seems to have been the responsibility of a variety of “non-experts”, mostly women. Āšipus are not once mentioned: the texts give the impression that except for the kumrum-priest, all ritual performers in the Old Assyrian corpus were women. A significant female performer of magic 141 142 143 144 145
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cusas 17 107 §e2. Karahashi 2017. Civil 2011: 281–282; Karahashi 2017: 165–168. For the geme₂-kar-kid₃, see Pomponio 1986b. For prostitutes providing health care for their clients and other women in other periods, see E.E. Cohen 2015 (Greco-Roman period) and Dangler 2001; Moral de Calatrava 2007 (medieval Europe). Pomponio and Visicato 1994: 29, 32, 58–64; 71–93, 244–245; Visicato 1995: 91, 105–108. Pomponio and Visicato 1994: 62–63 n. 15; 71 no. 10 obv. i 5–7; Visicato 1995: 107–108. For kar-kid₃ (= ḫarimtu), see Civil 1976.
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and healing in the Old Assyrian documents was the munusšu-gi/šībtu, “wise woman”, who performed “household magic” and to whom certain incantations are attributed that may point to a local Anatolian tradition.148 She was joined by the šāʾiltu and bārītu, who, together with their male equivalents šāʾilu and bārû, were specialists in dream oracles and omens, often concerned with life and health, in the Old Assyrian and Old Babylonian periods.149 Letters from these periods confirm that people consulted these female ritual performers in case of severe illness. For instance, kts 25 records how šāʾiltus were sought out to obtain a message from the divine because several girls fell ill and almost died.150 Because magic and the production of magical texts was not monopolized by one profession like the āšipu, but was the responsibility of a variety of local, mostly female performers or healers, Barjamovic (2016: 73) states that “one may imagine a situation where a certain number of people in the community were considered ‘knowledgeable’ and someone whom you could turn to with magical needs, without all of them necessarily being designated as ‘experts’”. A revealing source on women healers is the 1st millennium b.c.e. antiwitchcraft material, which places female healers in opposition to the professional, male, scholarly healers, in particular the āšipus.151 To these female healers, who were labeled witches or cosmic enemies of the professional healers, belonged the mušlaḫḫatu, eššebūtu, agugiltu, naršindatu and qumqummatu, as well as the previously mentioned qadištu and nadītu.152 In addition, Schwemer (2007: 76–77) mentions the ištarītu and kulmašītu as women with healing knowledge who had a special status separate from the male world. With the exception of the qadištu and nadītu, as well as the mušlaḫḫatu, about whom
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Barjamovic 2016: 72–73. For the munusšu-gi see also Beckman 1993. Oppenheim 1956: 221–225; Hirsch 1972: 72; Veenhof 1983: 87–88; Koch 2015: 24 (see also 138–139, 297, 299); Barjamovic 2016: 72–73. For the šāʾiltu and bārītu and the male šāʾilu and bārû as healers, see also paragraph 8.3.1. Oppenheim 1956: 221–222; Hirsch 1972: 72; Veenhof 1983: 87–88. See also AbB 6 22: 4–8. Note the mention of a bīt šāʾilāti, “house of the female dream interpreters”, in AbB 4 145: 12, which Worthington (2009: 57) considers as a place of treatment. For the bīt šāʾilti in a Middle Assyrian lexical text (together with bīt šāʾili), see cusas 12 2.1.3 iv 134 (Kagal). See Part 3. Maqlû 3 40–43 (note also the āšiptu in line 41); 4 130–132 (Abusch 2016: 87, 127, 307, 326); CMAwR 7.8.3: 35′; 8.20.2: 22′′; Schwemer 2007: 78–79. For the qadištu, see also Maqlû 5 50, 6 27, 37 (Abusch 2016: 140, 155–156, 242; 332, 340). Note that the male equivalents also occur as friends and foes of the āšipus (e.g. Maqlû 4 89–91; Abusch 2016: 123–124, 324), and those could thus also be considered as players in the medical marketplace; however, near to nothing is known about them.
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we know through her male equivalent, these occupations remain obscure; all of them seem to indicate some liminal healing occupation that was difficult to control or subdue by the male scholars. Besides the women mentioned in the anti-witchcraft corpus, all female occupations virtually disappeared from the textual record by the 1st millennium b.c.e. Von Soden’s suggestion that midwifery was simply not practiced anymore can be rejected,153 as midwives always have been around and birth certainly did not entirely fall into the hand of a small group of scholarly experts. It rather shows that midwives and other women health care providers stood close to the general population and were active in domestic settings, but were simply rarely or never recorded in the textual record. There are however several slivers of evidence for women practicing extispicy, writing and healing, such as in extispicy reports,154 and even Neo-Assyrian seals depicting healing scenes in reed structures, in which women are depicted in proximity to male scholarly experts both as collaborating healers as well as in more distant roles such as mourners.155 What can be concluded is that even though women in healing roles are hardly mentioned and were left out of the scholarly material almost completely, they were active in healing, and may have worked alongside of and together with professional healers. 5.2.6 The munaʾʾišu and mušallim(ān)u In the late 2nd and 1st millennia b.c.e., two Akkadian occupations are attested that mean “the one who keeps/makes (someone) healthy” and thus may have been some kind of healers, namely the munaʾʾišu and the mušallimānu.
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Von Soden 1957–1958: 121. See for instance queries saa 4 321 rev. 4–5 and 322 rev. 6–7: e-zib ša munus ta-aš₂-ṭu-ru-ma ina ma-ḫa-ri-ka ta-aš₂-ku-nu, “disregard that a woman has written it and placed it before you”. Although the title of the woman is not mentioned here, it is clear that a woman performed the extispicies and wrote the report, Heeßel 2011: 375 n. 19. Teissier 1984 no. 231; blmj 2789 (Muscarella 1981: no. 86); nd 1992.438, Hussein 2016: 183 plate 191b. On these seals, an individual who looks like a woman sits across from the scholarly expert who bends over a patient and seems to recite something over the patient. Beside the tent appear women with bare breasts, which is a sign of mourning, in this case not over an actual death but rather over the potential of death (Ornan 2004: 20; mourning women beating their bare breasts are also depicted on a sarcophagus from Ahiram found at Byblos, see Porada 1973: 360; for textual references to this practice, see also SibbingPlantholt forthcoming). Note that a dog is depicted outside the reed structure. It has been suggested that this signifies the presence of Gula (e.g. Ornan 2004: 20; Wee 2014: 35), but perhaps more likely, the dog serves an apotropaic function and keeps evil away from the sick person. For these seals and reed structures as a locus of healing rituals see PongratzLeisten 1992: 323–328; Salje 1997; Wee 2014; see also Ambos 2013.
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Munaʾʾišus occurs in a (badly damaged) royal inscription of Esarhaddon as part of a group of specialists deported from Egypt, that also includes other potential healers.156 The occupation is further documented in lexical lists, in which it is associated with other healers and is equated with a-zu anše, “asû of equids”.157 Note that in case of the latter, the entry a-zu anše = munaʾʾišu follows the azu = asû,158 indicating that in the Neo-Assyrian period, there may have been a difference between the who, and that the munaʾʾišu was specialized in healing equids. The mušallimānu is mentioned in Assyrian sources in what appear to be healing contexts. According to a letter by royal asû Urdu-nanaya to the NeoAssyrian king, the former sent a mušallimānu, perhaps to treat a (female?) patient in her bedroom.159 Another potential reference to the mušallimānu is the Middle Assyrian receipt kaj 92: 10, in which a Ninuajāʾu, perhaps a muraqqiu, received 15 sheep from a breeder (kurassû) for the tākultu banquet.160 In the following lines, Ninuajāʾu is labeled as mušallimānu, which has been interpreted as “the one responsible” or “the one who makes good (the debt)”.161 However, this could also refer to a healing role of the latter, with a potential association between the muraqqiu and the mušallimānu. He may have received the sheep to use animal products for his healing practices,162 but perhaps also to care for and heal the animals. The munaʾʾisu and mušallimānu thus may have been general terms for healers who help recover the ill, both humans and animals, or in case of the munaʾʾisu, perhaps an emphasis on equids. Also asû is such a generic term for healer, which will be discussed in Chapter 6.
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rinap 4 Esarhaddon 9 i 9′–11′; Radner 2009: 223–224. The other potential healers are for instance mušlaḫḫus and mašmaššus. The groups that directly follows the munaʾʾišus is not a group of asûs (cf. Borger 1981: 630 who read a-z[u]-meš, followed by Stol 2011: 379), but lu₂a-ba kurmu-ṣur-a-a, “Egyptian scribes” (cam m/2 199; Radner 2009: 224 n. 11 [reading confirmed by collations]). Lu i 157 (msl 12 100; stt 373 rev. ii 14); SpBTU 3 116 rev. iv 35′; Igituḫ 214 (Landsberger and Gurney 1957–1958: 83); Malku 4 28 (Cavigneaux 1981: 109 no. 161 rev. 10, between asû and āšipu); see cad m/1: 199; psd 1/1: 208; Stol 2011: 379. stt 373 rev. ii 13 (msl 12 100). mu-šal-li-ma-nu ina gišn[a₂] ša f!⸢x x i x⸣ [x], saa 10 316 lower edge 25–26. See also Jean 2006: 122. Villard (2006: 154) treats mušallimānu as a healing object (“objet aux vertus curatives”) that need to be placed besides the bed. Weidner 1935–1936: 10 n. 57; Frankena 1954: 53; Postgate 1988 no. 10; Jakob 2003: 377 n. 83. Frankena 1954: 53 and Postgate 1988: 162 respectively; see also AHw: 680. Weidner 1935–1936: 16–17.
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Professional Healers: The Scholars
The healers most prominently attested in the Mesopotamian textual record are the scholarly, professional healers. In contrast to modern times, there were no institutions in place that supported and maintained the medical profession or the use of medical titles in ancient Mesopotamia or even Antiquity at large, nor were there laws concerning this matter.163 For instance, the Greek iatros and Latin medicus were used for a wide range of healers, and the criteria applied to decide who of them were considered “professional” or an expert and who were not may have depended on the situation and the audience.164 In Mesopotamia, the regulation of which healers were professional was largely in the hands of the scholars to whom the professional healers belonged, and who made an increased effort to control this from the Middle Babylonian period on. This period was a particularly formative time for scholars, as it provided an ideal climate for scholars to established a new identity, royal patronage, a mythological framework, a textual corpus, and social closure, all at the same time. 5.3.1
A New Development of Scholarly Identity in the Late 2nd Millennium b.c.e. Evidence of scholarly activity dates back to the 3rd millennium b.c.e.; already then, a group of highly educated individuals copied, preserved and circulated scholarly works, which served to support and legitimize the hegemonic power structures. As Michalowski (1987: 63) wrote: the school was an ideological molder of minds, the place where future members of the bureaucracy were socialized, where they received a common stock of ideas and attitudes which bound them together as a class and in many ways separated them from their original backgrounds. Whether trained in schools or large scribal institutions,165 or in the courtyards of private houses,166 highly educated scribes and scholars has been trained according to a curriculum that served to instill in them the notion that they had a shared identity and preserved a common history and tradition.167 This
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Nutton 2013: 254–255. Salazar 2000: 85; see Nutton 1990: 256; 2013: 255–258; Lang 2013: 218; as well as paragraph 6.4 and Chapter 8. Robson 2001; George 2005. Tanret 2002; 2004; 2011. E.g. Michalowski 1987: 63; Veldhuis 2004: 69–79; 2010; Delnero 2012; 2016: 24–25.
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curriculum was marked by a shared productive environment and literary and scholarly tradition, which can be traced through intertextuality.168 This is particularly evident in the scholarship of later periods, but can already be recognized in the 3rd millennium b.c.e.: for instance Ur-Namma D or Aba munbale reveal that elements of different traditions (such as scribal training, royal rhetoric, and hymnic literature) were combined to create specific compositions.169 Scholarship revolved around the king, who was the patron of the scholars, but who in return needed them and their wisdom to ensure divine favor and success.170 Scholarly works in the 3rd and early 2nd millennia b.c.e. were almost completely anonymous, and were not attributed to human nor divine authors. Scholarly knowledge received its authority from the experts who used and distributed it and how they put the content to use, while keeping it within a circle of elite scribes.171 This changes in the course of the 2nd millennium b.c.e. During the Middle Babylonian period, scholars sifted and edited ancient texts; translated Sumerian compositions into Akkadian, standardized and stabilized written works that took on the form in which they were known in 1st millennium b.c.e. sources, and provided them with textual commentaries.172 It is also during this time that scribal houses were constructed and scribal legacy was established. Scholarly ancestors from this time period who established these “houses” were revered by later generations, who would use their names as “surnames”.173 Furthermore, the late second millennium b.c.e. was a transformative period in Assyrian scholarship, as a new interest in Babylonian scholarship and scholarly professions arose.174 168 169 170
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Seri 2006; 2014. Tinney 1999. See Parpola 1993; Beaulieu 2007; Lenzi 2008a: 74–77. For a direct link to the king from the Akkadian period on, see Van Dijk 1953: 22. Alster (2008) argued that scribal education was not totally dependent on the king because some texts express a critical view towards the palace; this merely demonstrates that the hegemonic domain did not have absolute control and received push-back from other domains and ideologies, even from within. Delnero 2016. E.g. Rochberg-Halton 1984: 127–128; 1987: 327; Finkel 1988: 150; Michalowski 1992: 236– 237; Livingstone 2013: 272–274. Although it can be argued that early lexical lists, glosses and translations in Old Babylonian sources are early forms of interpretive commentaries (Frahm 2011: 12–19), the latter are a late 2nd millennium b.c.e. development (Delnero 2016: 19). E.g. Lambert 1957; 1960: 13–15; 1962; 2005: xiii–xviii; Frahm 2011: 321–332; Heeßel 2011: 171– 176; 2017; Lenzi 2008a; 2008b; 2015a: 164–165; Brinkman 2006: 40–41; 2017: 20–21. Perhaps the most illustrating case of such a scholarly asû as ancestor and establisher of a house is that of the famous Rabâ-ša-Marduk, which is discussed in more detail in Chapter 6. E.g. Heeßel 2010a; 2011.
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This establishment of authorship and scholarly ancestors and tradition went hand in hand with a more refined definition of the group of scholars, which can be recognized in a new meaning of the term ummânu. Before the Middle Babylonian period, it was applied to people with a certain amount of power (e.g. power over finances and goods, like an investor or trader) or who mastered an occupation or a certain technique or knowledge, ranging from specialists and craftsmen to head masters of a scribal school.175 This was still the case in the Middle Babylonian period, see for instance pbs 2/2 92, in which occupations like i₃-sur/ṣāḫitu “oil presser” and mušen-du₃/usandû, “birdcatcher” were considered to be ummânus;176 in rosters, women and even nursing children (dumugaba) could be identified as such.177 However, probably by this time, the term ummânu, besides “skilled worker”, acquired an additional meaning that was well-known in the 1st millennium b.c.e., namely “scholar”: i.e., highly learned specialist in secret, divine knowledge, who stands in close relation to the king and serves as royal advisor.178 The small circle of scholars consisted of a core group of five occupations, namely that of the ṭupšarru Enūma Anu Enlil, kalû, bārû, āšipu, and asû, generally translated respectively as “scribe of the canonical omen series Enūma Anu Enlil”, “lamenter”, “diviner”, “incantation priest”, and “physician”. The scholarly knowledge was consequently divided up in core secret, written corpora connected to these offices, namely ṭupšarrūt Enūma Anu Enlil, kalûtu, bārûtu, āšipūtu, and asûtu.179 Not everyone bearing one of these titles was indeed a scholar working in the royal circles. This was a prerogative of only a small elite associated with the king whose members obtained an advanced scribal training. They used their secret, divine knowledge to advise and support the king and helped maintain an equilibrium between heaven and earth to ensure the health of the king and the country.180
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cad u: 108–115; Kramer 1990; Wilcke 1991: 268; Lenzi 2008a: 69. For ummânus as specialists of various occupations, see also the Old Babylonian list cusas 9 381 discussed in paragraph 6.1. pbs 2/2 92: 4′–10′ (um-ma-a-nu). Tenney 2011: 99, 143, 232. Wilcke 1991; Parpola 1983: xi–xxi; 1993: xiii–xxvii, xxxiv–xxxv; Heeßel 2010a: 164–167; Frahm 2011; Groß 2018: 371–374. For these “professional corpus catalogues”, see for instance Parpola 1983: xiv–xxi; 1993: xiii; Lenzi 2008a: 70–71; Radner 2009: 222; Gabbay 2014: 233; Steinert 2018a: 171–172. Although a number of individuals may have had access to a basic level of reading and writing, which would allow them to compose and access the content of administrative texts and letters, only a small group of scribes received a more advanced training that provided access to privileged knowledge and could be called “scholars”, See for instance Pearce 1995: 2274–2275; Wilcke 2000; Gesche 2001; Lenzi 2008a: 146; Charpin 2008; Michalowski 2012;
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The close relationship between kings and scholars is particularly well established in the 1st millennium b.c.e., for instance in the correspondence between Neo-Assyrian kings and their scholars, and king lists like the Uruk List of Kings and Sages and the Synchronistic King List that list kings and their personal ummânu. This process of a king entrusting secret knowledge to a subordinate council was at that time also reflected in the divine realm: secrets of a god were also restricted to one or a few members of the deity’s entourage, often the vizir of that deity, as can be seen in the Marduk Prophecy.181 The king lists focusing on kings and their scholars give the impression that these royal ummânus went back to the late 2nd millennium b.c.e., either through connecting the first royal ummânu with kings that ruled in the 2nd half of the 2nd millennium b.c.e., or by giving the first post-diluvian royal ummânus the names of late 2nd millennium b.c.e. scholars who were deemed the authors of major scholarly works, such as Sîn-lēqi-unnīni (Epic of Gilgameš) and Kabti-ilāni-Marduk (Erra Epic).182 These scholars are mentioned in the early 1st millennium b.c.e. Catalogue of Texts and Authors among human and mythological ancestors to whom important scholarly works were attributed.183 The scholars thus perceived and presented themselves as a continuation of the past and were determined to protect and perpetuate the knowledge of old, which served to provide the ideology and legitimizing framework for the preservation and success of kingship. This role as those who guard the king from straying from the divinely decreed path free from impurity, evil, divine wrath and illness, was only possible because the scholars professed the ability to communicate with the divine. This provided the scholars with a unique identity through exceptional and supernatural powers and royal support.
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Delnero 2016: 29–30. For the formation of elites in ancient (Syro-)Mesopotamia, see also Sallaberger 2019. Lenzi 2008a: 52–54, discussing Marduk Prophecy i 1–6; for this composition, see Borger 1971. Lambert 1962; Lenzi 2008a: 72–77; see also Steinert 2018a: 190 n. 170. The earliest legible entry in which a king is mentioned with a personal ummânu is that of the Middle Assyrian king Tukulti-Ninurta i in the Synchronistic King List (col ii 1–2), which is poorly preserved (Lieberman 1990: 313; Oppenheim 1969: 273; Wilcke 1991: 267; Lenzi 2008a: 75; Heeßel 2010a: 164, who emphasizes in footnote 55 that the break before Tukulti-Ninurta i leaves it undetermined whether he is indeed the first king mentioned with a personal ummânu). kav 11, a fragment of the Synchronistic King List (Grayson 1980: 123–124, no. 15) mentions an ummânu with the Assyrian king Enlil-nārārī i (Lenzi 2008a: 75). For the Uruk List of Kings and Sages, see Van Dijk 1962: 44–45; van Dijk and Mayer 1980: no. 89; Klotchkoff 1982: 149–154; Finkel 1988: 144; Lenzi 2008b; Heeßel 2010a: 162–164; Stevens 2013. Lambert 1962.
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During the late 2nd millennium b.c.e, the scholars formed a scholarly identity as successors of not only legendary humans, but also of the supernatural, namely Ea and his antideluvian sages, apkallus, who transferred knowledge to the Mesopotamian human scholars.184 This mythological framework took on a clear form at this time because, like ummânu, the term apkallu obtained a new meaning: the originally human office apkallu underwent a transformation from a human to a legendary or mythological office.185 The apkallu-ummânu juxtaposition emerged, with the apkallus being primordial sages who transfered knowledge to human scholars, the ummânus. That the claim to this supernatural ancestry and knowledge can be dated back to the Middle Babylonian period is further confirmed by the fact that the iconographic representation of the apkallus as fishmen became solidified during this time. The Erra Epic,186 the 3rd tablet of Bīt mēseri,187 and Berossos’ Babyloniaca188 provide evidence that the notion of ichthyomorphic sages associated with Ea who transfered knowledge to mankind was well established during the 1st millennium b.c.e.189 Although there are a few references to fish-apkallus in earlier texts,190 it is a Middle Babylonian development that they actually took shape in iconography191 and that they in this form became the mythological representations of the apkallusages and the origin of knowledge.192 The mythology of scribal succession must therefore have been alive at the end of the 2nd millennium b.c.e.,193 which served to legitimize the importance and elevated status of scholars. As Heeßel (2010a: 141 n. 6) states, the claim of Esagil-kīn-apli to descend from an apkallu serves to establish “eine gewissermaßen mythologische Tiefe seines Stammbaums, die seinen Ansprüchen noch größere Legitimation verleiht.” 184 185
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Wilcke 1988; 1991; Radner 2005: 276; Lenzi 2008a: 106–120. Lenzi 2008a: 127–128. Compare how other human occupations were present in the household of the gods, such as the sukkal and the agrig (Wiggermann 1992a: 76–77; see also paragraph 2.3.3). Erra i 162; Cagni 1969: 76–77; 1977: 34. Bīt mēseri iii 10–13, see Lambert 1957; 1962; Reiner 1961; Borger 1974; Wiggermann 1992a; Lenzi 2008a: 110. Berossos’ Babyloniaca Book 1 (known from Eusebius’ Chronicon); Verbrugghe and Wickersham 1996: 44 (translation). Wiggermann 1992a: 76; Lenzi 2008a: 127–128. See also Reiner 1961: 9–10. Wiggermann 1992a: 76. Wiggermann 1992a: 77; 1994: 224; for the seals, see canes 581; Stiehler-Alegria Delgado 1996 nos. 266, 266a and 268; pbs 14 539; Porada 1981–1982 no. 30a; Wittman 1992: no. 20 (Isin ii). Lenzi (2008a: 103–123) thinks that the apkallu-ummânu connection may first have been clearly written down in Seleucid Uruk, but that it historically developed from the 2nd millennium b.c.e. on. Lenzi 2008a: 108–114.
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Although the scribes and scholars always aimed to limit access to their knowledge to a small group of properly trained colleagues, the Middle Babylonian period also shows a stronger effort to maintain social closure, i.e. the exclusion of others from the scholarly circle and their exceptional wisdom, which was preserved and transmitted in textual form. From the Middle Babylonian period on, scholars emphasized their extraordinary connection to the divine which granted them divinely inspired competence and knowledge of divine secrets; they used this to place themselves in stark contrast to their adversaries, who they called incapable ignoramuses.194 They substantiated the claim that they possessed exclusive knowledge and abilities by protecting their knowledge through demonstratively labeling it a secret and making it inaccessible to others.195 Lenzi (2008a: 160–215) states that the scholars employed a social and religious mechanism to protect secret knowledge, namely in the form of admonitions to the reader as well as divine invocations to guard secret tablets, and a scribal mechanism through secrecy labels and Geheimwissen colophons. These scribal mechanisms can be dated to the late 2nd millennium b.c.e. The earliest Geheimwissen colophon that refers to the content of the text as secret and as the property of scholarly experts is found on the Middle Babylonian Nippur expository text pbs 10/4 12 iv 13–14: zu-u₂ «a» zu-a li-⸢kal⸣-lim nu zu-u₂ nu igi-mar An educated one may (only) show (this) to a(nother) educated one; a uneducated one cannot see (it)!196
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See paragraph 7.2.1. Borger 1964; Beaulieu 1992a; 1992b; Radner 2005: 14 n. 61; Lenzi 2008a: 140–146, 160–215. Westenholz (1998) assumed that early and mid-2nd millennium b.c.e. scribal texts were already labeled as secret with the term katimtu and its Sumerian equivalents. However, Lenzi (2008a: 141–143) argues that katimtu means “obscure” rather than “secret” in these texts, and that secrecy attached to scribal arts can only first be recognized in the late 2nd and 1st millennia b.c.e. For Mesopotamian texts referring to secrecy, see Borger 1964; Hunger 1968: 13–14; Lenzi 2008a. For secretive colophons in the late 1st millennium b.c.e. restricting a particular body of knowledge to certain scholarly individuals and their families, see Stevens 2013. Note further that Lenzi (2008a: 204–215) emphasizes that not the entire scribal craft was secret, and that that texts with a secrecy clause could be stored (but not read) by scribes who were not considered scholars. For the inconsistent use of these secrecy colophons, see Lenzi 2008a: 204–215; Stevens 2013. For the colophon, see Borger 1964: 189; Hunger 1968: no. 40 (copied by the son of a mašmaššu); for the text itself and its content, see Lambert 1967b: 14; Livingstone 1986: 54–57, 96–97, 175–179, 260; Beaulieu 1992b; Lenzi 2008a: 188–189; 2008b. A similar phrase is found in the colophon of the Agum-kakrime inscription (5 R 33; Stein 2000: 150–165; Oshima
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The mūdû, “educated one, one who knows”, or in other words the scholarly expert, placed himself in contrast to the one mimma ul īde “who knows nothing”, a term they used for other healers, such as the raqqû/muraqqiu in Ugaritic Silbenvokabular A.197 The colophon of the Middle Assyrian tablet kar 4, containing the Silbenalphabet and a creation myth, contains a similar phrase: ad-ḫal mu-du-u₂ mu-da-a lu-kal-lim Secret. An educated one may (only) show (this) to a(nother) educated one.198 The first medical knowledge to be labeled as “secret” and as belonging to experts is the Middle Babylonian medical text bam 385 i 11′, which has a colophon that states that it is ni-ṣir-ti lu₂[maš-maš?], “the secret of the [mašmaššu?]”.199 These colophons are direct commands to close out the uninitiated, and this rendered scholarly knowledge and material arcane and exclusive. This social closure became a form of power that solidified the authorization and legitima-
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2012; for a recent overview of the discussion on the nature of this text, see Paulus 2018). Lenzi (2008a: 201–202, 211) suggests that the purpose of this late text is the propagation of the special treatment of the ummânus, who were responsible for the production of the text and labeled it as secret knowledge because of the secret ritual content, namely the repair of the cult statue of Marduk. Regardless of whether this text was an original royal inscription, later composition, or a pseudo-autobiography modeled after an original Kassite inscription (for this discussion, see Brinkman 1976: 97; Longman 1991: 83–88; Foster 2005: 360; Lenzi 2008a: 201–202; 211–214; Oshima 2012: 231–233; Paulus 2018), the text was important for the special status of ummânus as those guarding secret, divine knowledge and deserving royal privilege, and demonstrates that the (later) scholars envisioned this to date back to the Middle Babylonian period. Paragraph 7.2.1. For mudû qualifying scholarly experts, see also Lenzi 2008a: 206–208; Rochberg 2000; 2016: 61–62 and paragraph 7.2.1. kar 4 rev. 31; Weidner 1952–1953a: 207 (no. 10); Hunger 1968: 31 no. 50; Beaulieu 1992b: 98– 99; Lenzi 2008a: 175; Lambert 2013: 350–360. The content of kar 4, dated to the 12th–11th century b.c.e. may have been deemed secret because the Silbenalphabet by that time was understood not as a list of personal names, but as the language of the two primal beings, Ulligarra and Annigarra, mentioned in the creation myth on kar 4 (Borger 1964: 191), and primal knowledge and language were to be protected and preserved by scholars (Lenzi 2008a: 210–211). For the Silbenalphabet as a list of proper names, see Cavigneaux 1983: 619. Compare the parallel text ⸢ni⸣-ṣir-ti maš-maš-ti, bam 471 ii 18′; Lambert 1962: 68 (who also mentions amt 40, 2: 9′); Lenzi 2008a: 180.
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tion of the role of the scholars and that of their corpus.200 This was further supported by the assertion of divine endorsement: some Geheimwissen colophons contain the phrase ikkib dn, “taboo/restriction of dn”.201 Also the kings seem to have backed their scholars in their mission of social closure and preserving scholarly knowledge, which of course was in their interest, as the scholars upheld royal ideology. yos 19 110, a text from the Eanna temple in Uruk with an injunction not to read excerpt tablets to temple servants, insinuates that royal punishment (ḫīṭu ša šarri) could be imposed on someone with access to canonical (scholarly) texts when he shared his knowledge with the uninitiated.202 This would confirm that restrictions to share secret knowledge were exercized and that warnings and royal punishment from breaking these secrecy restrictions were indeed enforced.203 All in all, Mesopotamian scholars were able to develop a sharper identity in the Middle Babylonian period through a clearer use of terminology, a strict definition of who belonged to their circles, and a more pronounced assurance of royal patronage through the office of royal ummanûs. Moreover, they began to trace their scholarly knowledge back to deities and mythological sages, which is recognizable in iconography. Lastly, they put extra emphasis on social closure which they claimed through their divine and royal patronage, their secrecy formulae to protect their texts, and their extraordinary training, knowledge, and competence. This went on until the very end of cuneiform culture, when a small group of scholars kept these esoteric cuneiform texts alive to preserve Babylonian knowledge and culture.204 On the one hand this new identity served to guard the scholarly body at large, and on the other hand, it allowed for sub-groups of scholars, in particular asûs, to establish their own status.
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For this process, see Foucault 1980: 69. Borger 1964: 189; Lenzi 2008a: 169–170. For the tripartite structure of the Geheimwissen colophons, see Borger 1964. Beaulieu 1992b. Lenzi (2008a: 150–154) contests the idea that the excerpt tablets (liginnu) contained secret knowledge, as this term has a more general meaning of any tablet that contains an excerpt of the scribal curriculum, and thus could also refer to rudimentary scribal exercises. He therefore assumes that yos 19 110 conveys that slaves were not allowed to be literate. However, this argument does not exclude the possibility that the excerpts indeed contained secret knowledge, and because there is a royal punishment involved, it seems more likely that Beaulieu’s understanding of yos 19 110 is correct. Lenzi (2008a: 154–160) further interprets saa 16 65: 1–14 and saa 10 294: 19–23, 26–27 as clearer proof of a concern for the security of secret knowledge, in the form of reports to the king by scholars that the restrictions of scholarly knowledge have been breached. Beaulieu 1992b. Beaulieu 1995: 190; Foster 2007: 111.
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5.3.2 (Professional) Healers among the Scholars: bārû, āšipu, and asû Of the scholars, the bārû,205 āšipu,206 and asû possessed the knowledge of healing and restoring order through restoring health, and those specialized in these were therefore players in the medical marketplace. These professional, scholarly healers shared a common curriculum and knowledge, but nevertheless had different backgrounds and focuses. Because the āšipu and asû, as mentioned in Chapter 1, were often perceived as the main (if not only) healers in Mesopotamia, and the healing role of the bārû is underlighted, the latter will be briefly discussed first. From early on, the bārû (Sumerian maš₂-šu-gid₂-gid₂207 and from the Middle Babylonian period on commonly written lu₂ḫal)208 was a specialist in divination and oracles who played an important role in maintaing the health of the country and individuals. Bārûs met the needs of the royal court and state administration through interpreting messages from the divine, particularly in the Old Babylonian and Neo-Assyrian periods. Sources from these periods demonstrate that bārûs could have a high social standing, were counsellors to kings who were entrusted with important military and political responsibilities, and could even marry into the royal family.209 From the Old Assyrian period on, bārûs were mentioned together with the šā’ilu (lu₂ensi), “dream interpreter”, which may have been understood as a type of bārû,210 and who according to 1st millennium b.c.e. sources was tasked with clarifying and/or 205 206
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For the bārû as a scholar, see Delnero 2016: 20–22. (W )āšipu, mašmaššu and lu₂maš-maš probably describe the same profession, see cad a/2: 431; Caplice 1967: 42 n. 15; Avalos 1995: 169; Jean 2006: 22–33. Geller has suggested a few possible differences between these two professions, namely that the mašmaššu cleansed the external body from evil or was originally a physiotherapist, while the āšipu treated the internal spirit (2007d; 2010a: 44); that the āšipu was a prestige scholarly term while mašmaššu may have been used in every-day life and vernacular language (2010a: 49–50), and that the mašmaššu primarily had a cultic in stead of healing role (2018b: 292–293, 303–304). For the maš-maš in the early 3rd millennium b.c.e., see Krebernik 1984c: 167– 168, 190–194; See also other writings such as lu₂mu₇-mu₇ and ka-pirig (e.g. Jean 2006: 16–33; Geller 2007d; 2010a: 45–48); according to Geller (2007d: 5–6) the latter was a priest responsible for diagnosic omina and rituals against demons. This study focuses on asûs and will not allow for an in-depth study of āšipus and similar occupations/professions. For maš₂-šu-gid₂-gid₂, see Falkenstein 1966: 45–51; Krebernik 1984b: 291; Sallaberger and Huber Vulliet 2005: 633; Archi 2010: 46–48; Rutz 2013: 280–282; Koch 2015: 22. Sassmannshausen 2001: 68–69; Jakob 2003: 522–528; Rutz 2013: 2, 284–288. For other writings of bārû such as lu₂azu/uzu₂ and lu₂i₃-zu, see Rutz 2013: 18, 282–283, 288–291. For the (respectable) position of the bārû in society see for instance Oppenheim 1956: 221, Finet 1966: 91–93; Renger 1969: 169, 203; Starr 1983; Charpin 1985: 457–458; 2011a: 251–252; Durand 1988: 1–93; Sallaberger and Huber Vulliet 2005: 633; Radner 2011; Koch 2015: 70. msl 12 119–120: lines 14′–26′ (Lu); uet 7 73 v 4–5 (Sjöberg 1996: 121).
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predicting the course and duration of illness.211 As mentioned in paragraph 5.2.5, their female counterparts, the bārītu and šā’iltu, also appeared together in every-day contexts and clearly were associated with healing. Inquiries concerning well-being is the most frequent topic in the Old-Babylonian extispicy reports,212 and bārûs thus clearly played a role in restoring health in case of illness. An important use for extispicy as well as other omina was to determine the divine agent behind an illness, e.g. the “Hand of (a deity)”; Asqudum, the famous bārû at the Mari royal court, reported on this in his letters.213 From 2nd and 1st millennia b.c.e. sources such as letters and oracle queries, it becomes evident that bārûs could make prognoses and performed extispicies in order to determine the proper cause of illness and diagnosis, as well as the duration of the illness, and consulted omina to make sure that an illness would not return.214 Old Babylonian letters provide first-hand accounts of people seeking out divination in case of illness, and thus demonstrate that besides performing rituals and divination for the king and the state and temples, they also served private clients.215 For instance, the author of Mari letter arm 26 403, reported that he is ill and his disease is deteriorating. As he has seen others die from supposedly a similar disease, he has consulted a bārû (maš₂-šugid₂-gid₂) multiple times about his illness.216 Also in letter arm 26 280, a father set out for a bārû (maš₂-šu-gid₂-gid₂) because his three sons fell ill, and the letter reports that although a bārû was sent, all three passed away the next day.217 A letter from Shemshara reports on a woman who had fallen ill and for whom an oracle inquiry (têrtum) was made, which allowed for the divine wrath causing the illness to be warded off and for the woman to return to good health.218 A potential reference to a private payment of such an inquiry can be found on
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Ludlul bēl nēmeqi 1 52; 2 6–7, 109, 111 (Lambert 1960: 32–33, 38–39, 44–45, 288–289; Oshima 2014: 192–194; 222–229), and the Harran stele of Nabonidus (Schaudig 2001: 493 3.1 1 iii 1–2; 2 iii 12; Oshima 2014: 152). See also Worthington 2009: 67–69. Koch 2002: 143. Durand 1988: 222–223, 226 (nos. 83, 84, 87); Heimpel 2003: 209; Charpin 2011a: 256; Heeßel 2018: 140–146. E.g. Nougayrol 1956; Finet 1966: 91–93; Durand 1988: 27; Stol 1991–1992: 56–58; Heeßel 2000: 76–77; Koch 2002: 143; 2015: 117, 127–129; Worthington 2009: 65–73; Charpin 2011a; Sasson 2015: 332 n. 114. Durand 1988: 27; Lambert 1998; Koch 2002; 2015; Maul 2003: 75–76; Worthington 2009: 65– 73; Sasson 2015: 332 with footnote 114. Durand 1988: 27, 55, 554–257; Sasson 2015: 332 (see also arm 26 403–bis). arm 26 280: 5–13, Durand 1988: 554, 579–581; Sasson 2015: 334–335. Eidem and Lassøe 2001: 104 no. 34: 11–20. See also Worthington 2009: 73; Sasson 2015: 332 n. 114.
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be 14 53, a receipt that records the payment of three lambs by Šamaš-aha-iddina to a certain Enlil-nīšu for the bārûtu that he performed.219 Although the bārû could be consulted alone to heal, he could also be asked to perform his services alongside the asû. The author of letter arm 26 125, perhaps sent by an official to Yasmaḫ-Addu during a battle, requests that the asû Meranum and bārû Išḫi-Addu will be sent to him quickly; the former is supposed to bandage (urakkasam), the latter to do oracle inquiries (têrtum).220 An illustrating example from the Middle Assyrian period of the consult of extispicy to determine the timing of a medical treatment may also refer to the collaboration between a bārû and asû. A letter from Tell Tabān (ancient Ṭabētu)221 concerns the illness of Ilī-padâ, grand vizir (sukkallu rabiu) during the reign of TukultīNinurta i, who fell ill during his travels and for whom a medicine (šammu) had to be prepared. At the same time it is mentioned that the days are not propitious,222 which means that an extispicy (bāʾeruttu) could not be performed.223 Based on parallels in oracle questions saa 4 185 and 187, which serve to determine whether respectively Esarhaddon and Assurbanipal should take a certain šammu, it can be assumed that the extispicy was necessary in order to determine whether Ilī-padâ should indeed take this šammu.224 It is possible that the šammu was prepared by an asû as the latter commonly is called to prepare šammus;225 in this case, the bārû and asû thus worked together. In the 1st millennium b.c.e., the bārû was part of the scholars, and his lore was part of the interdisciplinary curriculum. Bārûs are rarely mentioned in medical texts, but are often mentioned together with asûs in hemerologies,
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3 sila₄ ba-ru-tu₄ Iden-lil₂-ni-šu šu Idutu-šeš-sum-na dumu Inap-ši-ri-gašan, be 14 53: 1– 4 (sealed by Enlil-nīšu, dated to Nazi-Maruttaš year 11); Sassmannshausen 2001: 68, 69 n. 1097. Sassmannshausen (2001: 68) translates “3 qû (Öl oder Gerste?)”. For lambs used in divination concerning sick people, see saa 2 2 i 10′–11′; Worthington 2009: 73. This Enlil-nīšu may be the same person who received rations for the state for nēpešu (ritual procedures) in tmh nf 5 29: 20, a text dating to the 8th regnal year of Nazi-Maruttaš. For other attestations of possibly this same Enlil-nīšu, see Hölscher 1996: 69. For more distributions of rations for bārûtu and nēpešu, see Sassmannshausen 2001: 69. Durand 1988: 554; Sasson 2008: 96; Sasson 2015: 330. Tab T05A-134 (Shibata 2015). u4-meš la ša-a-aʾ-u₂, Tab T05A-134: 16; Shibata (2015: 148) suggests that ūmu šaʾʾu is the Assyrian form of the Babylonian ūmu šemû, “propitious day”. [b]a-e-ru-ta la e-pu-šu₂, Tab T05A-134: 17; Shibata (2015: 148–150) discusses the meaning of baʾeruttu and concludes that it refers to the performance of extispicy in Middle Assyrian context. Shibata 2015: 151–152. See Chapter 8.
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prescribing on which days an asû shall or shall not touch a patient and a bārû should make a prediction.226 Although asûs and bārûs seem to have been collaborating closely, it is the the ašipus and bārûs that have a some important elements in common, namely that they were well-rooted in the hegemonic domain and that their practices centered around the communication with the divine and restoring cosmic order.227 Nevertheless, they were the mediators between the domestic and hegemonic domain who kept alive domestic and holistic notions that had been made acceptable in a hegemonic framework. The task of bārûs was the interpretation of signs that revealed disruptions in the relationship between man and his surroundings, which is a pre-hegemonic, domestic matter. However, in hegemonic terms, it was the interpretation of divine signs that revealed governmental decisions made by the gods (namtar/šīmtu), and the ability to decode these messages was the prerogative of the scholars.228 In a similar way, āšipus claimed to receive their powers from the gods, but used holistic methods, such as plants and animal substances that were significant as elements of nature. Also, āšipus confronted untamed demonic adversaries that belong to the holistic world, such as Asag and Udug, but by the end of the 2nd millennium b.c.e., he did this is the name of his divine patron and cosmic ruler Marduk.229 The main difference between bārûs and āšipus on one hand and asûs on the other hand was that the asûs did not depend on a hegemonic power structures and a theistic framework, and were rather strongly rooted in the domestic domain. Many words have been written about how the āšipu and asû differed. This debate is heavily influenced by the work of Edith Ritter (1965), who proposed a duality between the āšipu as a magical expert who cured illness employing supernatural causes with magic, and the asû as a physician who treated illness using natural causes with non-magical techniques. The general notion is that the āšipu, translated as “exorcist”, “conjurer” or “incantation priest”, made a diagnosis and determined the cause of the disease with
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E.g. Jean 2006: 149–153, 161–164; Koch 2015: 18–24; Lenzi 2015a: 177–178. Van Binsbergen and Wiggermann 1999: 28. Van Binsbergen and Wiggermann 1999: 25–29. His patron was Enki/Ea, who was rooted in the me/parṣu-ordered universe and who used magic to heal, but he restored the order of Enlil, who ruled the land with his authoritative decrees and had no interest in mankind. After Marduk took over Enlil’s place as cosmic ruler, me/parṣu disappeared and namtar/šīmtu became the “cosmic organizing principle”. Marduk used incantations (tû) and wisdom to defeat agents of chaos who could obtain power by stealing the Tablet of Fates. He made the Ea/Marduk magic, or “white magic”, part of the theistic model (van Binsbergen and Wiggermann 1999: 28–29).
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the help of the Diagnostic Handbook and manipulated the environment with rituals and objects, whereas the asû or “physician” treated symptoms by practising medicine with the help of therapeutic texts.230 Additional views are that the asû had a strictly pharmaceutical role and was not able or even allowed to make a diagnosis,231 and that the asû as a mere layman or craftsman who treated minor illnesses was inferior to the āšipu, the educated priest who wrote, compiled, and redacted medical texts and experimented with medical techniques.232 It has also been suggested that the asû did not observe the patient up close without the consent of the āšipu and did not need a thorough knowledge of medicine to treat a patient because the āšipu had to make the diagnosis.233 These assumptions do not hold up, as a strict division between such tasks or responsibilities are not supported by the textual record—even the text corpora, the asûtu and the āšipūtu, largely overlapped and were practiced by both āšipus and asûs. However, 1st millennium b.c.e. scholarly catalogues demonstrate that asûtu primarily focused on bulṭū, “medical remedies”, and āšipūtu on incantations and therapeutic rituals for various purposes.234 This alludes to the fact that asûtu does fit in a hegemonic and theistic framework, but rather stems from domestic and holistic spheres. Beaulieu (2007: 10) describes asûtu as a traditional and purely empirical knowledge that formed the oldest branch of Mesopotamian medicine, with āšipūtu first emerging in the 2nd millennium b.c.e. as another form of medical knowledge. Asûtu was indeed the oldest form of medicine, but not as a scholarly branch. Rather than a scholarly text corpus that fit within theistic frameworks and served hegemonic power structures, asûtu, “the art of healing”, was from days of old a body of traditional, indigenous knowledge practiced by many different healers that had existed before these power structures even emerged. Even in the early 2nd millennium b.c.e., asûtu was still practised by male and female popular or folk asûs as well as highly edu230
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E.g. Ritter 1965; Parpola 1983: xiv–xvi; Goltz 1974: 5–13; Edel 1976: 53–54; Oppenheim 1977: 293–297; Herrero 1984: 22–31; van der Toorn 1985: 69; Stol 1991–1992: 59–61; Powell 1993: 53–55, Avalos 1995: 142–172; Reiner 1995: 46–47; Finkel 2000: 146; 2005: 155–156; Jean 2006; Geller 2007a; 2007b, 2007d; 2010a: 43–55; Attinger 2008: 71–77; Heeßel 2009: 11–13; Maul 2010: 212–214; Schwemer 2011: 421–423; 2015: 36–37; Couto-Ferreira 2013a: 407–408; Böck 2014: 185–192; 2015b: 31–33; Steinert 2016a: 214–219; 223–225; 2018a. Some focus on the idea that the asû performed practical and manual medicine; for medicine “with the hands” as Durand (1988: 555) calls it, referring to the original meaning of “surgeon”, see also Attinger 2008: 68–77. Beaulieu (2007: 10–12) states that the practice of the āšipu, who was involved in magic and played a significant role in the cult, can be called “theological medicine”. Scurlock 1999; 2014: 2–4. See for instance Attinger 2008: 3; Geller 2010a: 50–52. Scurlock 1999: 78–79; Geller 2010a: 52. Steinert 2018a; see Chapter 8.
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cated or even professional asûs. As Stol (1991–1992: 59) stated, “[an asû] is not a man of handbooks with narrowly circumscribed rituals.” Scholars could nevertheless be asûs, and scholars had interest in asûtu, as they wrote down and copied this medical knowledge. However, the texts recording asûtu were less solidified, well-structured, and thematized than the āšipūtu, which was written in learned Sumerian and was transmitted from early on in a fixed form. Their content was largely rooted in oral tradition and the domestic domain, as they are written in a language that the common lot understood, namely Akkadian and traces of orally transmitted Sumerian. Moreover, asûtu avoided the theistic model and hegemonic enterprises: it contained few to no references to moral and religious transgressions, and its incantations did not serve to restore cosmic, divine order, but rather restored the relationships between elements of the natural world, i.e. mankind and its environment. It further contains mythological pre-histories that were heterodox, and thus did not fit one centralistic, institutionalized mould. According to van Binsbergen and Wiggermann (1999: 29–30), its textual transmission is non-consensual, fragmented, and “in a confused state, which confirms its lateness as an object of scholarly interest.” Asûtu thus was originally not a scholarly branch but rather a body of domestic, traditional knowledge that existed outside hegemonic and theistic influences that was of interest to scholars. This is corroborated by the fact that healers called asû were rooted in the domestic and popular domain and in local communities, which suggests that they practiced medicine based on the pre-hegemonic relationship between humans and (matter in) their surroundings. An asû could be anyone, male of female, who could cure illness, in both humans and animals, with techniques that did not require a hegemonic ideology or theistic framework, and existed before these even emerged—which will be demonstrated in the following Chapter. However, from the late 2nd millennium b.c.e. on, the textual record reflects efforts to reserve the title asû for a more solidly identifiable sub-group of scholars who presented themselves as professional healers who were allowed access to scholarly training, guarded divine knowledge, and who received their powers from the divine. The multidimensional use of the term asû and the many healers that fell under this category, including the professional asûs, will be discussed in the following Chapter.
chapter 6
Rethinking the Term “asû” As discussed in the previous Chapter, asû is often thought of as a one-dimensional category, one that is most commonly defined in opposition to another healer, the āšipu. But the sources begin to make more sense if one takes into account that the asû and āšipu were not the only available healers, and that the term asû was used to indicate a wide variety of healers. This chapter will discuss the versatility of the occupation asû. It will define the term and will delineate who could be called asû (and who could not). It will furthermore elucidate what their practice consisted of and which institutions they could be connected to and be dependent on.
6.1
Asû as a General Term: “Healer”
The word asû, azu (a-zu(5), zu₅:a) in Sumerian (but generally referred to throughout this work as asû), is attested in administrative texts and letters from the early 3rd millennium b.c.e. on. The origin of the probably Sumerian term remains uncertain. The understanding of a-zu as “the one who knows water” has been disputed, but the component a, “water”, seems to be an important part of the orthography of the occupation, and the meaning would fit well with the occupation.1 In the Silbenvokabular A from Emar, the entry a-zu = mu-di a-meš
1 The interpretation of a-zu as “one who knows water” has been rebutted by Biggs (1966: 176 n. 4; 1969b: 97), who has claimed that the element zu, “to know”, is not part of the profession in archaic writings, and that it therefore cannot be etymologized as “he who knows the water”. He is followed by for instance Krecher 1973; psd a/1: 208 and Fincke 2011: 159 n. 4. The latter refer to the writing a-su, but this does not seem to be a common writing: it occurs four times in Early Dynastic texts: in dp 40 iii 9, 579 ii 5 and 586 ii 6, and Nik. 149 ii 4 (Selz 1993: 1 371), see psd a/1: 208; further it may occur at Ebla (aret 5 19; tm.75.G.2459) and in lexical lists from Emar (Emar 6/1 264–265 [Msk. 74105a] obv. iv 9′ and Emar 6/2 571–574 [Msk. 74247] obv. iv 18), see the electronic Pennsylvania Sumerian Dictionary (ePSD2 2.1), http:// oracc.museum.upenn.edu/epsd2/sux, visited on 10 December 2020. However, the element a, “water”, seems to have been a significant component in the various orthographies (e.g. azu, zu₅:a, a-zu) of the occupation already since archaic times (For azu, see also Sollberger 1961: 24 no. 125a; Biggs 1974: 65). Attinger (2008: 71–72) states that an original meaning “one who knows water” cannot be excluded, but prefers to interpret the A (or E in Ebla) as a verbal prefix, because he does not see a clear connection between the asû and water. He consequently translates /azu/ as “le ‘il connaît’”, or “expert”. The element zu(5), “to know”, may be alluded
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reveals that the asû could be perceived as “a knowledgeable expert of water”.2 The connection between life-giving water (and plants) and the asû is further confirmed by the Letter-Prayer of Sîn-iddinam to Ninisina. In this composition, Damu as a-zu-gal is described as the knower of life-giving plants and life-giving water: u₂ nam-ti-la mu-un-zu a nam-ti-la mu-un-zu he knows the plant of life, he knows the water of life.3 These two subtstances heal: they, for instance, revived Inana after she returned from the Netherworld.4 That the knowledge of the plant of life as essential in healing has been discussed in paragraph 4.2.1.2, where this is a quality of healing goddesses who represent the divine epitomy of healing. Also the Gilgameš Epic shows that life-giving plants, here called šammu nikitti, “Plant of Heartbeat”, by means of which one can recapture napištu, “life, life force”, and šību isṣaḫir amēlu, “the Old Man Has Grown Young”, are sought out in order to obtain new and even eternal life.5 Also water had similar properties. It was strongly associated with wisdom and magical knowledge and had purifying, healing and lifegiving powers, which were symbolized in the Apsû, the sweet-water ocean
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to at Ebla, where inim-a-zu₅ is a compound verb referring to dub, “to understand, read” (Krebernik 1992: 102; see also Mander 1986: 58). The Ebla attestations suggest that it had a Semitic etymology (Krebernik 1992: 102), but there is no Akkadian root that can be identified as the basis for the noun asû. For the asû in Hittite sources, see Beckman 1993. Silbenvokabular A Tablet 2 (603B) obv. ii 16′–17′ (with a-zu= ba-ru₃-u in line 16′; note i₃-zu = ba-ru₃-u = mu-di i₃-meš, “the one who knows [how to read] oil”, in lines 14′–15′), Emar 6/2 497, Gantzert 2011; Rutz 2013: 288–289. See also psd 1/1: 208; Steinert 2016a: 209. For this passage, compare Erimḫuš 5 137–142 (msl 17 73). Mudû refers to scholars, see Rochberg 2000; 2016: 61–62 and paragraphs 5.3 and 7.2.1. Sîn-iddinam to Ninisina composite line 50; a similar line may be found in Sîn-iddinam C obv? 3′, which Brisch (2007: 138–140) reads as [a]-⸢zu⸣-gal u₂ nam-ti-la me-zu ⸢nag?⸣ n[am-ti-la mezu], “a-zu-gal, you know the plant of life, you know the potion? [of life]”, although she states that the reading tu₆! n[am-ti-la], “incantation [of life]” is also possible. See paragraph 4.2.1.2. Inana’s Descent to the Netherworld lines 224–225, 252, 280 (Sladek 1974: 131, 134, 138). In Ištar’s Descent it is only the water of life (a-meš ti-la/mê balāṭi, lines 114 and 118, Lapinkivi 2010: 21); Watanabe 1994: 583–584. For the water of life used in healing, see also for instance Kramer and Maier 1989: 101–102; Wee 2014: 27. Standard Babylonian Gilgameš Epic 11 294–307 (specifically lines 295, 299), Watanabe 1994: 581–583; George 2003: 722–723, 895–896. For napištu as life force, see Cancik-Kirschbaum 2009: 47. For the plant of life, which can stand for healing plants in general but can also denote a specific healing plant, see also Stol 2005: 506; Stadhouders and Johnson 2018: 595.
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and the home of wisdom where Enki/Ea resided.6 Water play a crucial role in the provision of life—as without it, there is no life—, as well as healing. Water, or more generally fluids, served as a vehicle and diluent in the preparation of potions, enemas, and purgatives,7 and was used in therapeutic baths.8 It had the power to cleanse and purify, as well as wash off and flush away illness and evil beings.9 Water thus was an essential life-giving and healing element, and the knowledge of it was essential for the practice of healing. This may be the reason behind the meaning a-zu as “the one who knows water”. Another explanation for the latter translation was put forward by Steinert (2016a: 209), namely that it could be related to the conceptualization of the body as a container of fluids, which would make asûs experts on the regulations of fluids in the body. She further refers to the fact that healing incantations often used metaphors for the body and compare illness processes to unregulated waterways and rivers, such as flooding, blockages and dike breaches.10 The knowledge of bodily fluids, including blood and pus, undoubtedly was part of the traditional knowledge of asûs, and this knowledge may have been perceived as an essential skill in healing. Lastly, water had a bipolar aspect that defines also asûs—as well as Gula: it provides life, but also can take it, a fact very well known through the flood story. This general meaning of asû as one who can heal with the knowledge of livegiving natural substances gives the impression that the term encompassed a wide range of healing occupations and types of healers. This is corroborated by cusas 9 381, an administrative document that lists groups of ummanûs, including coppersmiths (tibira/gurgurru), leather workers (ašgab/askāpu), carpenters (nagar/nagāru), and asûs.11 All these groups were formed of workmen with the same occupation, except the asûs: this group consisted of men who were known under different titles: an i₃-ra₂-ra₂/raqqû, and a lu₂tug₂-kal-kalla/mukabbû, “clothes mender”,12 an asû, the brother of this asû (šeš-a-ni), and
6 7 8 9
10 11 12
Kramer and Maier 1989: 99–126; Galter 1999; Lapinkivi 2010: 51–52. Compare the term a silim in Gudea Cylinder B, paragraph 5.1. E.g. Böck 2011: 698–699. See for instance Maul 1994: 88–100; 2012: 11. Ogden (2013: 344) discusses how in GraecoRoman sources, rivers and springs were considered to be healthy places where the sick could recover and drink healthy water. See also Steinert 2013, in which is pointed out that mû, “water”, can refer to different kinds of bodily fluids. cusas 9 381 obv. 2–6 (tibira/gurgurru), 7ff. (ašgab/askāpu), rev. 11′–16′ (a-zu/asû), 16′–31′ (nagar/nagāru). For these occupations, see Chapter 5.
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the colleague of this asû (tab-a-ni). Since this section concludes with an-nuu₂-tum a-zu-meš, “these are the asûs”,13 all members of this group thus were perceived as asû, although they were primarily known for another occupation. This confirms that asûs were a heterogeneous group that encompassed a vast assemblage of healers whose knowledge hinged on long domestic traditions and the relationship between man and his natural environment. They performed indigenous practices that must have been around long before city states and central government, and indeed, did not require a hegemonic framework of healing. Their asûtu, “healing knowledge”, existed historically outside an ideological, theistic framework that is tailored to hegemonic structures.14 As mentioned in paragraph 5.3.2, Beaulieu (2007: 10) already stated that the asûtu was the oldest branch of Mesopotamian medicine, and that it referred “in the early corpus of Mesopotamian medical texts to a surgeon and herbalist who practiced a form of medicine that is variously characterized as traditional, empirical, or practical.” No secret texts, divine framework, or scholarship were thus needed to practice asûtu, and therefore asûs did not need to be literate.15 One more important aspect of the practice of asûs should be addressed which embellishes the image of asûs that has been presented here, and that is the use of their hands.16 Ritter (1965: 321) already stated that the hands of the asû pluck, assort, and dry the plants, measure and mix and painstakingly prepare the drugs; they wash and rub and bind the sick-man’s body; they give the enema and hold the potion for him to drink (…) the human counterpart, as it were, of the soft hands of Gula bringing in the healing bandages. Expressions refer to the asû reaching out his hand to a patient17 and references are made to medications such as lotions and salves of qāt asî, “the hand of an
13 14 15 16
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cusas 9 381 rev. 16′. Van Binsbergen and Wiggermann 1999: 29–32. Contra Finkel (2000: 141), who claims that “Mesopotamian doctors, even the itinerant, needed to be literate, at least in the later periods”. Ritter 1965; Majno 1975; Durand (1988: 555)—the latter describes the asû as a surgeon, in the sense that the latter term is derived from cheirourgos, “celui qui travaille avec ses mains”; Attinger 2008: 68–77; Panayotov 2018: 90 n. 6. E.g. ana gig šu-a-tu lu₂a-zu šu-su nu ub-bal, “an asû shall not reach out his hand to this sick man”, bam 578 iv 46, Panayotov 2018: 90 n. 6. Hemerologies prescribe on which days asûs shall or shall not touch their patients (Livingstone 2013: 14: 17; 107: 3; 109: 62; 110 ii 3; 112: 35; 113: 66), see also paragraph 5.3.2.
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asû”.18 Besides using hands to prepare and apply medication and bandage, rub and massage body parts, touch itself is an important aspect of the asûs’ practice, for instance for monitoring temperature19—not to mention that touch in itself can be healing, and this aspect of healing is closely associated with the healing goddesses, emphasized in the epithet (ama)šu-ḫalbi.20 Touch demonstrates closeness and trust between the healer and patient, which fits within the domestic realm. The relationship between the professional asûs’ healing hands and touch and that of the deities who guide them will be discussed in paragraph 8.3. Although the core of their practice was the use of natural substances and their hands, this does not mean that no incantations or magic were applied by asûs; their magic however had a more popular Sitz im Leben. The incantations were not used to counter the effects of sin, wrathful deities, and demons sent by them to punish for the committed sin, like in the case of āšipus, but countered harmful elements of nature: either personified illnesses as elements of nature gone astray, or animals, such as the snake, dog, or scorpion.21
6.2
Different Types of asûs and Intersections with other Healers
6.2.1 Asûs as Healers of Humans and Animals A few medical texts concerning veterinary prescriptions and incantations against animal diseases have been preserved. Occasionally they concern sheep,22 but they generally deal with equids and cattle, such as the oldest medical prescription known, found at Ebla (tm.75.G.1645), which instructs how to heal an ill weaned calf.23 The 1st millenium medical texts demonstrate that the healing of animals was included in both asûtu and āšipūtu and thus was part of 18
19
20 21 22 23
E.g. bam 228: 22 // bam 229: 16′ (cad m/1 280; Scurlock 1999: 76 n. 46); bam 516 iv 13 (igi 3 105′, Geller and Panayotov 2020: 150, 174, 290; compare igi 3 93′, hand of the ummânus), Panayotov 2018: 90 n. 6. For fevers, see Stol 2007a; for noticing change in temperature during illness, see for a Middle Babylonian report of probably an asû about the chest and area between the shoulders of a patient becoming hotter and hotter, see N 969 obv. 9–rev. 2, Sibbing Plantholt 2014: 174; for such a report on body parts (feet) being cold instead of hot, see be 17 32 obv. 12–13 (Sibbing Plantholt 2014: 176). See Chapter 4. Van Binsbergen and Wiggermann 1999: 29–32. See yos 11 7 and cusas 32 ii.E.10. no. 8d (pl. xxviii); both Old Babylonian. Fronzaroli 2005. For an overview of incantations and medical prescriptions concerning disease of and epidemics among animals, see Hausmann 1976; Huber 2005: 24–30; Stol 2011: 378–402; Maul 2013; Panayotov 2015; Zomer 2018: 96; Steinert 2018b: 276–277.
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the interest of scholarly, professional healers.24 Texts outside this specific corpus mainly provide evidence that non-scholarly, non-professional asûs treated animals. The lexical tradition preserves references to asûs specialized in animals. The a-zu gud “the asû of cattle” is mentioned in two Old Babylonian lexical texts, once side-by-side with the a-zu anše, “asû of equids”.25 The latter is probably already found in the 3rd millennium b.c.e., namely Fara lexical list sf 70,26 and is equated in a Neo-Assyrian lexical list with munaʾʾišu, literally “the one who causes to recover” and a term for general healer of humans and animals, with a possible emphasis on healing equids.27 Also the Laws of Hammurabi §§ 224– 225 mention the a-zu gud and a-zu anše, and prescribe how much they should receive when healing a sick cattle or equids, or what they had to restitute when an animal did not survive their treatment.28 Although sporadically, asûs treating animals also occur in administrative texts. An account of textiles from Ebla concerns two asûs of a specific type of equid, who, like the equids they cared for, came from the city of Nagar to Ebla.29 These asûs were apparently dispatched to Ebla for their specialized knowledge. Another daily-life text from Old Akkadian Adab mentions an a-zu anše in a list recording allocations of bread.30 A contract from Old Babylonian Sippar records that an a-zu gud-ḫi-a appeared as a witness to the handing over of a bovine.31 With his knowledge of bovines, his presence may have been requested to inspect the health of the animal, or to ensure its proper handling.32 The fact that healers treating animals are not often reported in administrative texts suggests that they either largely operated outside the state administration, or, perhaps more likely, simply were referred
24
25
26 27 28 29 30 31 32
Panayotov 2015: 486–487; on the veterinary section in the Aššur Medical Catalogue part 2 lines 121–122, which was written by an asû, see Steinert 2018b: 257–258, 276–277; see also Panayotov 2018: 90. ob Lu (msl 12 36) lines 92–93 (a-zu gud / a-zu anše; preceded by a-zu gal); see also a-zu, azu gal and a-zu gud in ob Kagal line 246–248 (⟨oracc.museum.upenn.edu/dcclt/sux#Q00 0048.254⟩, visited on 7 February 2019). msl 12 13 iii 4 (sf 70, ed Lu B); for a potential other reading, see the next paragraph. See paragraph 5.2.6. See also Stol 2011: 380. Equids bar.an (tm.75.G.2287 + 10157 obv. vii 16–19), Biga 2006. cusas 35 275 obv. iii 2. tcl 1 132: 7 (Si 10), Harris 1975: 274; Stol 2011: 380. Old Babylonian letter cusas 32 211 demonstrates that physical aspects of an animal were considered in a transaction: the author of this letter received a donkey with teeth that he considered too big, and subsequently had to request for a nicer donkey twice, as the first replacement also did not have small teeth.
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to as asû. That it was not necessarily specified whether an asû healed humans or animals can be deduced from a votive seal belonging to Ur-Lugal-edina, a high-placed official from Ur iii Lagaš. He carried the title asû (a-zu), and also dedicated a stone plaque to Bau, which may refer to his abilities to perform regular healing practices.33 The seal depicts Ur-Lugal-edina’s god Edin-mugi, the vizir of Šakkan and god of (wild) steppe animals and mothers with young.34 Edin-mugi stands next to a tree from which two chains hang. These chains may have been used in the process of delivering calves, a process that Fuhr (1966: 572) describes as follows: In der Tiermedizin werden die Geburtsketten wie folgt angewendet: Bei Austritt des Kälbchens aus dem Leib des Muttertieres werden die Ketten oberhalb der Klauen in der Weise um die Beine des Jungtiers geschlungen, daß man die kleineren Glieder der Kette durch die großen steckt und die Kette soweit anzieht, bis beide Füße des Tieres eng nebeneinander fest von ihr umschlossen werden, worauf der Tierarzt das Kalb während der Austreibungswehen mithelfend langsam herauszieht. Ur-lugal-edina may have been involved or even specialized in the healing of animals, perhaps those who roamed in the surrounding steppe, edin, to which his name and the name of his god refer.35 Because of his seemingly important position, Stol (2000: 73; 2011: 279–380) has suggested that Ur-lugal-edina worked for the state of Lagaš as the one responsible for the health of the herd, which was of great importance for the economy of Lagaš. Because he does not bear a more specific qualifier, it seems that the general term azu/asû could be applied to healers of both animals and humans, just like asûtu also referred to the healing of animals. The author of Mari letter arm 26 27036 attempts to convince Yasmaḫ-Addu that a certain Ipiq-Enlil is very skilled in kizûtu and asûtu, and that the king should take notice of him.37 Durand (1988: 555; 1997: 305) translated the difficult term kizûtu as “l’art du palefrenier” and assumed that
33 34 35 36 37
See paragraph 4.3. cco 1 T 98, see Fuhr 1966; Cavigneaux 1999: 261–264; Stol 2000: 72 (with additional references); 2011: 379–380; Attinger 2008: 56–58. E.g. Thureau-Dangin 1914: 103–104; Fuhr 1966; Cavigneaux 1999: 261–264; Stol 2000: 72–73; 2011: 279–380. arm 5 32; lapo 16 169. lu₂ šu-⟨u₂⟩ ma-di-iš / ki-⸢zu⸣-tam u₃ a-su₂-t[am] / [i-le]-⸢i⸣, lines 7–9 (parallel in lines 15– 16), see lapo 16: 305. See further Durand 1988: 555; Sasson 2015: 330; Loretz 2011: 70–71; Stol 2011: 379–380 n. 120.
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the kizû could function as some sort of veterinarian.38 The exact meanings of kizûtu and kizû, which may have a Hurrian origin,39 remain uncertain, but it has been demonstrated that the terms were used in the context of chariotry and horse-tending, grooming, and training.40 It can therefore be concluded that Ipiq-Enlil probably handled horses, which makes it likely that his skills in asûtu relate to his experience with healing and caring for these animals. Consequently, it was possible in Sumerian to indicate specializations in animal healing through using the terms a-zu gud and a-zu anše, but aside from the Neo-Assyrian munaʾʾišu, there were no Akkadian equivalents of these terms. In both Sumerian and Akkadian, normally only azu/asû was used for healers treating animals, as these terms apparently conveyed a type of healers who also were, or at least could be, competent in this type of healing, probably through their roots in the domestic realm. 6.2.2 Specializations of asûs Besides the a-zu anše and a-zu gud, who likely were specialized (but not limited to) healing animals, asûs could carry other qualifiers that may point to specializations. Fara lexical list sf 70 mentions two poorly understood types of asû: the a-zu₅ munsub (lak 672a) and the enigmatic a-zu₅ uḫ-du.du.41 As munsub can refer to hair (šārtu) and gallābu,42 this may be indicate an overlap between the hairdresser and asû.43 This opens up the possibility to also interpret a-zu₅ uḫ-du.du as a type of asû with a certain specialization, perhaps one related to the a-zu₅ munsub. And indeed, the a-zu₅ uḫ-du.du may be understood as a healer with a specialization in ailments related to hair, namely those caused by external parasites such as head lice.44 The term uḫ(uman) and its Akkadian equivalents kalmatu, uplu, piršaʾu, and mutqu can refer to head lice, body lice, fleas, and sand flies.45 Medical texts and incantations, as well as
38 39 40 41 42
43 44
45
Followed by Sasson 2015: 330 (who translates “this man is very capable as an animal trainer [veterinarian] as well as a physician”); Loretz 2011: 70–71; Stol 2011: 379–380 n. 120. von Dassow 2008: 312 n. 130; Loretz 2011: 69. cad k 478; Von Dassow 2008: 56, 311–314, 317; Loretz 2011: 68–71. sf 70 (ed Lu B; msl 12 13) obv. iii 5–6. See also Stol 2011: 380. munsub₂: min (= gal-la-bu), msl 16 176 i 9, see further AhW: 274; see also Stol 2000: 172 n. 11 and 13, and paragraph 5.2.4. Note that munsub can be a writing for uš₂, “blood”, Krebernik 1983: 35; 1984c: 37, 46 (A viii 6–8//B vi 4–6); Cavigneaux and Al-Rawi 1995a: 37. The a-zu and šu-i are also mentioned together in uet 7 73 ii 41–42, Sjöberg 1996: 119. Suggested by M. Krebernik (personal communication, 15 February 2020). Krebernik also mentioned the occupation lu₂uh-ze₂-ze₂ in ob Lu A 395 (msl 12 169) which may be someone who delouses; compare uh-ze₂-ze₂ = uppulu, “to delouse” in izi J 12 (msl 13 213). For head lice, see uḫ associated with the head, ob Urra = ḫubullu 337; msl 8/2 28–29 (Urra
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curses, demonstrate that these ectoparasites invading head and body caused health issues and could be repelled for instance through the use of medicinal plants.46 Ectoparasites clearly posed a health problem and their treatment permeated the scholarly medical literature. Therefore it is conceivable that there were healers who offered (and were particularly skilled in) the treatment and removal of ectoparasites.47 sf 7048 lists another a-zu₅, probably the a-zu₅ anše, which would find a parallel in later references of this type of asû. However, it must be mentioned that the name of this occupation could also be read as a-zu₅ giri₃ and thus could be understood as an asû who specializes in ailments of the foot, which were quite common.49 Such a specialization in body parts can be found on another occasion, namely in the Neo-Babylonian lu₂a-zu ša₂ igiii-meš, “the asû of the eyes”.50 Knowledge and treatment of the eyes has clearly been part of the practice of asûs since the Old Babylonian period (see below in the Laws of Hammurabi), and this asû may have been—or at least had the reputation of being—particularly skilled in healing the eyes. It is unlikely that the above-mentioned examples of specialized asûs reflect a notion of medical focus areas or differentiations in medical procecures like ophthalmology or dermatology. Rather, these associations with body parts were a way for asûs to advertise their skill, experience, reputation, and success in healing these body parts and curing illnesses associated with them.51
46
47 48 49 50 51
= ḫubullu 14 250–253), 47; tss 46 viii 19. For the Akkadian equivalents to uḫ, see Veldhuis 1997: 110. For uḫ, see also Cavigneaux and al-Rawi 2002: 43. E.g. bam 1 iii 33; stt 92 iii 8′; bam 494 i 30′; SpBTU 1 51: 1–2; ao 11447: 35–36 (Labat 1959: 9) and duplicate bm 41282+ ii 22′–23′ (new edition of ao 11447 and duplicates by Geller 2007e); see also cad k: 87; Scurlock and Andersen 2005: 20, 209, 226, 240, 717, 726; Scurlock 2014: 210. For problems caused by lice and fleas see also Landsberger 1934: 126–127; Lambert 1960: 236 ii 8; Borger 1969: 6 line 63; Geller 1985: 38–39 line 332; Beckman and Foster 1996: 19: 2 (if this should not be understood as ublum, “drought”, see Stol 2001); cad m/2: 301–302; cad p: 414; cad u/W: 181. Note that Stol (2001) has suggested that AbB 5 198: 14′ should not be read as ṣu₂-ḫa-ru-u₂ i-na up-li-im la i-⸢mu-ut-tu⸣, “the servants/boys should not die from lice”, but “the servants/boys should not die from drought (ub-li-im)”. Because of the evidence for lice posing health problems that is discussed here, the former translation should not be ruled out, especially not because oil is requested in the previous line, perhaps to treat the lice. The letter is too fragmentary to draw conclusions based on context. For scalp afflictions caused by such parasites perhaps being treated by gallābus, see paragraph 5.2.4. sf 70 (ed Lu B; msl 12 13) obv. iii 4. This thought I owe to Manfred Krebernik (personal communication, 15 February 2020). vs 6 242: 8, 17; Oppenheim 1977: 304, 385 n. 14; cad a/2: 347; Fincke 2011: 164. Lang 2013: 208–209 reaches the same conclusion concerning Egyptian swnw (translated
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6.2.3 Female asûs From lexical lists and administrative texts it becomes clear that in the 3rd and 2nd millennia b.c.e., the title asû could be carried by women. In the 3rd millennium b.c.e., it was often not even indicated in their title if asûs were women; they were simply called a-zu without a feminine determinative. They can only be recognized as women based on their names, for instance Nin-ga₂-ab-e from Fara/Šuruppak,52 and Ṭūbī-Damu, who originated from a town near Ebla and received allotments of garments and silver, in one case from the queen.53 These female asûs therefore probably performed the same or very similar functions to their male colleagues, and were not, as sometimes suggested, medical specialists with a specific focus on women, such as “gynaecologists”.54 Rather, munusazu and a-zu were simply two different writings for the same occupation. This is borne out by the case of the most well-documented female asû, namely Ubartum, who lived in the Ur iii period.55 She was a woman of high status and probably was the sister of the asûs Šu-kabta and Nawir-ilum, who like her, made offerings to Ninisina and Nintinuga.56 She is mentioned in dozens of texts, but less than a dozen times she is referred to as an a-zu, and only twice as munusazu.57 This gives the impression that there indeed is no significant difference in the meaning between these two occupations. The lexical tradition confirms this too. Old Babylonian Nippur Lu 705 does not list the entry munusa-zu among the different asûs, but in a separate group of female titles, like munusdub-sar, “female scribe”, munusšu-i, “female hair dresser”,
52
53
54
55
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as “physician”), who also could have specialties, of which “swnw of the eyes” was the most common. Krecher 1973: 196 no. 1 v 9–10; see also Kleinerman 2011a: 179 n. 16. Krecher (1973: 223, note to no. 10 ii 5) assumes it concerns a woman because of the element nin in the personal name, as opposed to, for instance, dingir-ga₂-ab-e. aret 1 1 obv. v 1–7, obv. x 10–14; mee 7 48 obv. iii 2–9; D’Agostino 2003: 139–140, 145–146. See also a nin-a-zu₅ in Fara/Šuruppak, Pomponio and Visicato 1994: 38 no. 2 rev. i 5, 80 no. 11 rev. viii 6. As suggested by for instance Kleinerman 2011a: 179. See also Durand 1988: 558 n. 129 for the idea that the munusa-zu would only treat women; however, see Heeßel 2006: 12–13; Worthington 2009: 49 n. 22. The fact that she is a woman is derived from her title munusa-zu (see below), and from the nature of her name, Ubartum, the female form of ubārum, “foreigner” (Kleinerman 2011a: 179). Kleinerman 2011a: 179–180. Kleinerman 2011a: 179, who mentions 11 documents. These include nypl 221 rev. 5; Ontario 1 98 obv. 2; sat 3 1186 rev. i 18; sat 3 1316 obv. 4; tim 6 15 obv. 4 (the text says a-ba, which probably is a mistake for a-zu, Kleinerman 2011a: 179); uet 3 1211 rev. i 12′, anm 3633 rev. 3′; and Owen 2013a nos. 208 obv. 3 and 230 obv. 3; in the latter two she is called munusa-zu. For references to the asû Ubartum, see also Waetzoldt 1988: 31 n. 9.
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and munusmuḫaldim, “female cook”.58 The fact that the term munusa-zu is incorporated in Lu shows that it was part of the categorization and organization of the world according to scribal training, but because it is not mentioned with the other types of asû, it was likely not perceived as a specialization or sub-category, but simply as a female equivalent, as is the case with the other occupations. All other occurrences of mundane female asûs are dated to the 2nd millennium b.c.e., mostly the Old Babylonian period.59 In Mari letter arm 10 18, a woman named Mammītum-ummī, a munusa-zu, is brought goods (clothing) by the queen,60 and an administrative text from Mari records a ransom payment for the release of Makija, munusa-su-tim, daughter of Simʾal.61 In the Middle Assyrian settlement Tell Sabi Abyad, a woman with the name Asuʾatnīšē, “the female asû of the people”, occurs in two lists of workers.62 It is likely that this name refers to a goddess (Gula?), but since the name does not contain a theophoric element, there exists a possibility that it alludes to the woman carrying the name. She may have been known in Tell Sabi Abyad as the asû of the people, namely her local community, to whom she was accessible and for whom she performed medicine in daily life.63 Although it is clear that in the 3rd and 2nd millennia b.c.e., the occupation of asû could also be held by women, female asûs are untraceable in the 1st millennium b.c.e. textual evidence. Remarkably, the diminution of references to female asûs in daily life went hand in hand with an increasing use of the title for healing goddesses, in particular Gula, who was called asû more than 20 times in the 1st millennium b.c.e. The healing goddesses always carried the Sumerian title a-zu (not munusa-zu), but in Akkadian only the female forms asâtu/asûtu/asītu and azugallatu are found in the late 2nd and 1st millennia b.c.e. This obliteration of female asûs from written sources and the development of a single divine female asû in Gula is also contemporary to the emergence of the male professional asûs who influenced the textual record. This will be discussed in the following paragraph.
58 59 60 61 62
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ob Lu (msl 12 58) lines 706–708 respectively. E.g. tcl 10 107: 37 (Old Babylonian contract from Sippar); Oppenheim 1977: 385 n. 14. arm 10 18 (lapo 18 1132): 5, see also Finet 1974: 47; Durand 1988: 558 n. 129; Von Soden 1989: 429; Otten and Rüster 1993: 539; Attinger 2008: 72. arm 25 130: 1–3. She was likely a Canaanite woman. See also Von Soden 1989: 429; Otten and Rüster 1993: 539. sab 88 T01: 14 (fa-⸢su⸣-a[t-ni-še]); sab 88 T03: 16 (fa-s[u-a]t-ni-še). Jas (1990: 33–34) understood the name as the Hurrian name Azuašše, but Frans Wiggermann has confirmed that collations support the reading Asuʾat-nīšē (personal communication, 8 November 2019). There are otherwise no records of practicing asûs or other healers in the texts from Tell Sabi Abyad.
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The Functions and Work Environments of asûs
This paragraph will give an overview of the different settings and environments in which asûs could work, and what tasks they could perform. Asûs operated in the periphery and in the city centers. They could have ties to temples, they could have their own clients, and could also be public healers, in which case they received some support of the state to perform healing practices. Some of these asûs could earn enough prestige to be asked to work for the palace or the king. Only from the Middle Babylonian period on there is a notion of the asû belonging to a group of educated scholars. 6.3.1 Public Duties and Private Practice of asûs Already in the early 3rd millennium b.c.e., asûs worked for the state administration. In administrative texts from Fara/Šuruppak, a-zus and an ugula a-zu are mentioned in texts concerning the personnel of the palace administration.64 At Ebla, as many as 30–40 asûs worked for the palace,65 several Old Akkadian sources record how asûs received rations and gifts to perform healing.66 Also in later periods the state employed asûs and provided them with goods, sometimes in the form of medicinal substances.67 An a-zu-gal in Old Akkadian Nippur received garlic,68 and in the Ur iii administrative text tlb 3 92 obv. 1–3, an asû receives five sheep and (medicinal) herbs or plants (u₂). The Middle Assyrian asû Sîn-šallimanni received, in addition to shoes,69 also alum 64
65 66 67
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Pomponio and Visicato 1994: passim; Visicato 1995: 7–9, 23–25, 140. See also Asher-Greve 1985: 30. The asû is mentioned in Early Dynastic lexical lists (ed officials 79; ed Lu 47). For the ugula a-zu, see paragraph 6.3.5. Archi 1988: 135; see also D’Agostino 2003; Fronzaroli 2005: 95. E.g. tcbi 1/2 86 obv. 2; rtc 93: 10; 96 rev. ii 2; cusas 11 186 obv. iii 12; cusas 27 37 rev. iii 13; cusas 35 275 obv. iii 2; 276 rev. ii 2; 278 iii 2; 284 rev. ii 7. Note also metals or metal objects, which could be (used for) instruments. The OldAkkadian list cusas 33 240 ii 1 records a distribution of urudugar-ud, a copper object(?) to an asû, and also in Kassite text be 14 123a an asû receives copper, see below. Sassmannshausen (2001: 72) sees a connection between asûs and the transaction of metal objects (including a gir₂zabar; for its connection to healing, see paragraph 8.3.3) in pbs 2/2 110. However, in this text, asûs only appear as witnesses to the transaction; the occupation of the receiving men is not mentioned. osp 2 124 obv. i 6. For a healer, possibly an asû, requesting garlic, see Middle Babylonian letter pbs 1/2 72 obv. 16 (ḫa-za-an-[na ki]-i e-ri-[šu], “when I desired garlic”), Sibbing Plantholt 2014: 181. 1-ni-a-tu kuššu-ḫu-pa-tu kur⟨kat⟩-mu-ḫa-ia-tu a-na Id30-šal-lim-a-ni lu₂a-su-e ta-ad-na, “1 pair of Katmuhḫean shoes were given to Sin-šallimanni, the asû”; Postgate 1973: 13 no. 1: 18–21 (John Rylands Library P 28 Box 22); Freydank and Saporetti 1989: 46, 84–85; Jakob 2003: 537.
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(na₄ga-bi-u) to preserve herbs or medicinal plants (u₂-meš-ne₂), from the city of Aššur.70 Moreover, the famous Middle Babylonian asû Rabâ-ša-Marduk applied a bandage and consequently was allocated a ground commodity, perhaps saḫlû, which was commonly used in recipes.71 On other occasions, he received gifts, food allotments, and travel rations for his (healing) actions.72 Other evidence from the Middle Babylonian and Middle Assyrian periods alludes to the state administration providing medical supplies for healers, perhaps asûs. In letters, medicinal substances are requested by what seem to be asûs,73 and two Middle Babylonian administrative documents may indicate the allotment of large quantities of medicinal plants to healers.74 And lastly, as already referred to, asûs received travel rations to travel and perform their duties where the state needed them.75 70
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10 gin₂ kimin (= na₄ga-bi-u₂) a-na Id30-šal-lim-a-ni lu₂a-su-e a-na u₂-meš-ne₂ re-ša a-na qau₂-e ta-din, “10 shekels of idem (= alum) given to Sin-šallimanni, the asû, to preserve the medications”, kaj 223: 7–12; see cad a/2: 346; Jakob 2003: 537. AHw: 931 has “Familien”, i.e. e₂-meš-ni for u₂-meš-ne₂; Freydank and Saporetti (1989: 13–14, 55) follow this and transliterate e₂-meš-ni, but do not provide a translation. The copy in kaj and the picture of the cdli website (https://cdli.ucla.edu/dl/photo/P282236.jpg, visited on 10 October 2019) support the reading u₂. Ni. 127; Devecchi and Sibbing-Plantholt 2020: 307–308. Devecchi and Sibbing-Plantholt 2020: 307–308. For Rabâ-ša-Marduk, see below. The Middle Babylonian healer Bēlu-muballiṭ (perhaps an asû) asked his lord (perhaps Enlil-kidinnī, šandabakku of Nippur) for a long list of herbs in the medical letter pbs 1/2 72 (rev. 30–38), and specified the diseases and treatments for which he needed the medicinal plants (Waschow 1936: 35–37; Ritter 1965: 317–318 [lines 6–30]; Parpola 1983: 495–496; Sibbing Plantholt 2014: 181). See further Ritter 1965: 317–318; Biggs 1995: 1919. He received these from gardeners (lu₂nu-giškiri₆-meš, obv. 17); for this, see the next footnote. Furthermore, Shibata (2015: 140–141, 146–147) suggests that lines 23–30 of the Middle Assyrian letter Tab T05A-134 contain a request for medicinal plants in order to prepare a medication for Ili-padâ. Note that the author of the letter is not mentioned by title. Shibata 2015: 147 suggests he is an “āšipu, ‘healer’”, but the fact that he prepared a šammu, which is commonly done by asûs, gives the impression that he rather was an asû (see also Chapter 8). For Tab T05A-134, see also paragraph 5.3.2. pbs 2/2 108 (unedited, see Farber 1977: 225) is a list of 10 gardens and the (medicinal) plants that they provide, which supports the idea that herbs or medical plants were grown by gardeners and delivered to the state administration (see previous footnote), which then may have distributed them to healers. pbs 2/2 107 is an inventory and distribution list of herbs and plants received by an Ea-šemi (lines 1–3: u₂-ḫi-a ša (…) [x? Id]⸢e₂⸣-a!-še-mi maḫ-ru₃; see Farber 1977: 224 n. 9). Since the quantities are large (some of the plants being delivered in naruqqū, “bags”), these deliveries may have been made to a large institution that redistributed these drugs (Finet 1954–1957: 135–137; Farber 1977: 223–228; Avalos 1995: 221– 222). It is also possible that Ea-šemi received these drugs from the central organization for personal use; it can however not be confirmed that he is a healer. Besides Rabâ-ša-Marduk, other less well-known or reputable Middle Babylonian asûs also
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The state aimed to control (certain) asûs by regulating their practice and fees, as can be deduced from law codes from the Ur iii and Old Babylonian periods. Two witnesses of The Laws of Ur-Namma contain paragraphs (§§ d2– d6)76 that list the fees for asûs when they healed the bites of a lion (ur-mah)77 and an ušumgal-snake,78 repaired a broken bone,79 extracted a kidney stone,80 or restored someone’s eyesight.81 The fees for the healing of broken bones and “bodily cords” (šerʾānu) and procedures on the eye, as well as the use of sharp instruments during the process of healing humans and animals, is also
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received travel rations (ninda-kaskal), e.g. asû Ibni-Marduk in tmh nf 5 29: 28 (Petschow 1974: 83 no. 31) and um 29-15-685: 14 (unpublished, see Sassmannshausen 2001: 72). An Ibni-Marduk, possibly the same man, also received travel provisions in mun 302 ii 10′. He is not called asû but he is mentioned among other asûs (mun 302 ii 7′; iii 7′). The asû Ibni-Marduk and could possibly be identified with the person by this name who copied bam 394 for the asû Aḫu-bani (lines 37–38: gaba-ri Išeš-ba-ni lu₂a-zu Iib-ni-damar-utu insar; see Hunger 1968: 35 no. 71; Sassmannshausen 2001: 72 n. 1160). The asû Sin-napšira further received copper “for the city Arad-bēlti”, which is located in the vicinity of Nippur and Dūr-Kurigalzu (be 14 123a: 5, see Sassmannshausen 2001: 72. For Arad-bēlti, see Nashef 1982: 34). Numbering following Civil 2011: 237–252 (cusas 17). The section on the asû is preserved on bm 54722+ ii′ 5′–8′ (Michalowski and Walker 1989; Wilcke 2002 [manuscript D]; Roth 1997: 36–39 [‘Laws of X’], Civil 2011: manuscript S₂) and cusas 17 107 (ms. 2064), Civil 2011: 237–252 manuscript X viii 12–21. Note that §d6 (ms 2064 viii 20–21) is very fragmentary and the action for which the asû received payment is not preserved. Civil 2011: 244 §d3 (see also Wilcke 2002: 324). This entry is somewhat surprising: unlike the bite of a dog, a bite of a lion would probably not cause an injury that can be healed but rather would lead to death, which is indeed attested in 3rd millennium b.c.e. texts; for such references and a further discussion of this line, see Civil 2011: 279. bm 54722+ ii′ 5′–6′: Wilcke (2002: 324) reads ušumga[l?]. Wilcke (2002: 328) was uncertain about the translation of ušumgal because it is often deemed a mythological figure, but it must have been a living animal as well, probably a type of snake, which is confirmed by tcti 2 3567 obv. 1–4, see paragraph 5.1. Civil 2011: 244 sees this passage as a variant of cusas 17 107 §d2, a law on the asû healing broken bones (see the following footnote), and reads gal-⸢gir₃?⸣ (as an equivalent of ga₂×gir₃, “[leg/foot?] bone” according to Civil) instead of ušumga[l?]. bm 54722+ however has a different paragraph sequence that the other sources for cusas 17 107 §d2, and Civil (2011: 279) admits that this gal-⸢gir₃?⸣ would be an unusual construction. tukum-bi ga₂×gir₃ lu₂ ib₂-ta-ḫa-aš-am₃ a-zu i₃-sag₉ ku₃-bi 5 gin₂-am₃, “if a man breaks his (leg/foot?) bone and an asû heals him, the silver for it will be 5 shekels”, cusas 17 107 (ms 2064) viii 10–12 (§d2). For a discussion of the hapax ga₂×gir₃, see Civil 2011: 279. tukum-bi a-zu na₄ mu-ta-tum₂ ku₃-bi 5 gin₂-am₃, “if an asû extracts a (kidney) stone, the silver for it will be 5 shekels”, cusas 17 107 (ms 2064) viii 16–17 (§ d4). On kidney stones, see Geller 2005; Scurlock and Andersen 2005: 104–106. tukum-bi a-zu igi-du₈-du₈-a i₃-sag₉ ku₃-bi ⸢2?⸣ gin₂, “if an asû heals the eyesight, the silver for it will be 2? shekels”, cusas 17 107 (ms 2064) viii 18–19 (§ d5).
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recorded in the Laws of Hammurabi §§215–217 and 221–223.82 The preceding paragraphs, §§218–220, concern medical malpractice, i.e. killing or blinding a patient as the result of a procedure with a karṣillu-knife.83 Asûs could be punished by having their hand cut off,84 which equaled the damage that was done and prevented them from disturbing order through malpractice in the future.85 Especially considering the important role of the hand in the techniques and practice of asûs, this must have had severe consequences for their ability to perform healing; moreover, the punishment was forever noticeable, and thus would have permanently marked the asû with his or her failure. The law thus recorded what was acceptable or unacceptable practice, in an attempt to control asûs and protect patients from those of them who were unskilled. One would expect these laws to refer to asûs practicing in the cities and for the state administration, as the state probably had less influence on those living in the countryside.86 However, asûs working in the cities would not have been fully dependent on the state either, as they could have their own clients. The fact that the laws regulated the fees of asûs is already proof of that, but also from sources outside the legal sphere there is evidence for asûs receiving payments directly from clients for their services.87 In Old Babylonian letter AbB 10 55, the author writes that he is ill, but has nothing to pay an asû with.88 A receipt
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Roth 1997: 122–124. See also paragraph 8.3.3. Sa₅/šerʾānu can refer to any cordlike detail of the body, such as muscles and tendons (cad š/2: 310–313; Attia 2000; Rutz 2011: 304), and according to Böck (2014: 27), forms with bones and soft parts (flesh) the three main components of human anatomy. For (the vastness of) the fees, see Attinger 2008: 3; Geller 2010a: 56–58 and paragraph 7.1. The regulation of cutting practices is reminiscent of the British legal regulations on who is allowed to make incisions and how deep one can cut into the body of a patient, Last 1996: 383–384. kišib-la₂ i-na-ki-su, Laws of Hammurabi §218 line 83. Roth (2007) discusses the punishments in the form of amputation and demonstrates that these were commutable into monetary payments. For the limited influence of the state on the general population, see Drower 1938: 105 and the discussion in paragraph 1.3.3. Note that the Namburbi ritual kar 144: 1 (Ebeling 1955: 178–179) does not refer to profit (išdiḫu) made by the asû (contra cad i/J: 234; Oppenheim 1977: 303; Avalos 1995: 171; Reiner 1995: 64). It is a ritual to ensure that profit does not bypass a brewer’s house that may have become magically unclean (Maul 1994: 105–106, 179, 190; see also Maul 1992a: 395– 396). The bārû, asû and āšipu were part of the ritual as the ones who recited an incantation over the brewer’s house (Farber 1987: 277–278). ša a-na a-si-im a-na-di-nu u₂-ul i-šu-u₂, “I have nothing that I can give to the asû”, AbB 10 55: 16–17. See also Worthington 2009: 61. He consequently reached out to the brothers of one of the addressees, but unfortunately for the sufferer, they did not come to help (a-
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from Mari records that silver is paid out to an individual called Apil-ilišu for asûtu, i.e. (successful) healing actions.89 Moreover, medical texts and incantations from the late 2nd and 1st millennia b.c.e. can contain a plea for healing (to Gula), so that the professional healers (represented by Gula) will receive a nig₂-ba/qīštu, “gift”.90 This gift, or fee, must have been an exchange for a successful healing action. Another reference to private payments for healers might be literary text “Why Do You Cuss Me?”, in which the healer, a šangû priest of the Gula temple, comes to collect his payment from his patient, inferring that he was paid directly by his clients.91 Asûs could consequently depend on private clients, which probably was true for asûs who lived and operated outside of the bureaucratic centers, or on both private clients and the state. As the state would probably not fully provide for its asûs, it is to be expected that these asûs supported by the state to perform healing simultaneously collected fees from patients. An example of this can be found in a Mari letter that reports on how asû Ṣuḫḫurtum was ordered by the king to come to Mari from Šubat-Enlil, but his brother (perhaps also an asû?) refused: Ṣuḫḫurtum would not have been sufficiently provided for on his last dispatchment to Mari.92 Asûs, or a family of asûs, could decide against being dispatched if it was not sustainable, let alone profitable, for them. This demonstrates that asûs were not fully dependent on the state and that they did not necessarily received enough compensation from the state to make a living off of it. A double source of income may also be evidenced in the case of another type of healer: Enlil-nīšu, probably a bārû from Middle Babylonian Nippur, received rations for performing ritual procedures (nēpešu) for the state, and on another occasion, he was paid three sheep for performing bārûtu for an individual.93 A scenario of asûs being both supported by the state and funded privately is reminiscent of the Greek iatros dêmosios, “public iatros”, who could be hired
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na a-aḫ-ḫi-ki aš-pu-ur-ma di-a-ti-m[a] u₂-ul i-ša-l[u]-u₂, “I wrote to your brothers, but they did not take notice of me” AbB 10 55: 18–20). 17.5 shekels for a-su-tu (arm 25 787 obv. 1–rev. 2); note however that this amount is very high; compare the comments of (Attinger 2008: 3) and Geller (2010a: 56–58) on the fees in the Laws of Hammurabi (2–10 shekels of silver); see also paragraph 6.3.1. See Chapter 8. For healers paid by individuals, see Avalos 1995: 169–172; Geller 2006: 463; Worthington 2009: 61–62 (see the evidence from the Old Babylonian period). Compare the GrecoRoman world, Krug 1985: 202. arm 26 267; Durand 1988: 556; Geller 2010a: 65. Respectively tmh nf 5 29: 20 (Sassmannshausen 2001: 68) and be 14 53, in which he received three sheep for the bārûtu that he performed for Šamaš-aha-iddina; Sassmannshausen (2001: 68, 69 n. 1097) transliterates 3 sila₄, but translates “3 qû (Öl oder Gerste?)”.
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by the poleis for a regular but minimal salary that was received in addition to the fees paid by patients. These payments by the city-states did not guarantee free treatment, but rather assured a degree of competence: these iatroi gained official recognition and reputable publicity.94 Perhaps this is also the case for government-funded asûs. Asûs recognized by the state were not paid a full salary, but in addition to their own fees, granted rations in forms of food, clothes, and medicinal substances, which could be considered as a form of acknowledgement of distinguished services. Moreover, these asûs could attach themselves to a certain urban center and thus had steady access to a pool of diverse patients, scaling from the lower class up to the elite. Convincing the most powerful of their abilities would have allowed these asûs to earn considerable money, but the competition must also have been higher in the city.95 At Mari there seems to have been a term for asûs working for the state, namely the asû bīt têrtim, “asûs of the state administration.”96 An example of an urban asû who gained reputable publicity as a result of his support by the state is Rabâ-ša-Marduk. As mentioned before, he received rations and gifts from the Middle Babylonian state administration to perform healing, for which he also traveled to Babylon, where he may have attracted attention from the palace. He was highly educated and even set up his own scribal house or school. Over the course of his long career in Babylonia, he obtained royal recognition, as king Kadašman-Enlil ii selected him to be sent to the Hittite king in a diplomatic exchange—where he unfortunately died not long after his arrival.97 The duties of state-supported asûs may have been to ensure the health of the community and to provide healing for soldiers and workmen in particular. From Mari it is known that asûs could be employed by the state in times of war to treat war wounds,98 and according to sources from the 3rd and 2nd
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Lang 2013: 233–236 (also for Egyptian parallels); Nutton 1988; 2013: 87–88. For public healers in the Roman empire, see Pleket 1995: 31; Nutton 2013: 156, 255–256. Compare Nutton 2013: 266–268. See following paragraph. Heeßel 2009; Devecchi and Sibbing-Plantholt 2020 provide an emended reconstruction of his career in Babylonia and Hattuša and based on a new analysis of Kbo 10+ conclude that he died right after he arrived in Hattuša. arm 2 127 (Durand 1988: 555; see also Finet 1954–1957: 126; Worthington 2009: 60 n. 64). For soldiers dying from war injuries, see Charpin 1990: 120–122 (a soldier died after the ‘region of’ his nose was broken by a stone, na₄ ša ap-pi iš-bi-ir, A.350+A.616: 19). Note also the possibility for a Neo-Assyrian attestation of an asû connected to a military office, namely the rab asê ša turtāni, although the reading lu₂a-⸢ba⸣ instead of lu₂a-⸢zu⸣ seems more probable (Hunger 1968: 114 no. 366: 5; Menzel 1981: 1 222; cad t: 490; compare Hunger 1968: 115 no. 372: 3).
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millennia b.c.e., asûs oversaw construction and supervised workmen.99 It is conceivable that these asûs were assigned to be present at construction sites to treat injuries—although it also possible that construction workers who had the reputation of being asûs were expected to provide healing and care for their colleagues.100 Another option is that public asûs had to perform additional labor and held other official duties for the state, and therefore could be assigned as overseers. This is embellished by the case of Ninzišagal, who was called ra₂gaba a-zu, “rider/messenger (and) asû”, and thus apparently functioned as asû in Ur iii Garšana but also was responsible for delivering offering materials of the king for deities in Umma and Zabala.101 As already has been mentioned, asûs could also receive travel supplies and travel compensation for being dispatched to serve in different areas to provide healers throughout the country. Sometimes a royal order was issued to make well-esteemed asûs with extraordinary healing abilities available for certain patients. A Mari letter shows that the king repeatedly dispatched an asû to Saggarātum to bandage a female patient suffering from a simmu-affliction,102 and also several Neo-Assyrian letters contain references to the king dispatching asûs in the case royal servants and personnel had fallen ill, including bārûs.103
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For Old Akkadian source recording an a-zu as overseer of workmen, see for instance Milano 1991: 18 M2 1 ii 4′–5′. (Female) asûs oversaw construction in Ur iii documents, see Heimpel 2009: vii–viii, 2–4, 40; Kleinerman 2011a: 180. For asûs reporting on the construction of walls at Middle Babylonian Nippur, see N 969 rev. 4–6; pbs 1/2 71 rev. 13′–15′—if these are indeed written by asûs (Sibbing Plantholt 2014: 174–176). In marv 2 17: 56 (Jakob 2003: 537) an asû is mentioned with an āšipu, bāriʾu and ṭupšarru ša bīt ṭuppāte who supervise workmen (ḫurādu troops) who are building the palace gardens in Kār-TukultīNinurta. Jakob doubts that the profession is relevant here, but since asûs also supervise building projects in the Kassite period, this may have been one of their duties as governmental officials. Evidence from Deir el-Medina, a workman’s village in Pharonic Egypt (16th–12th century b.c.e.), shows that the state paid rations to workmen to serve as healers (swnw and ḫrp šrḳt); the latter probably supplemented their income with private fees from patients whom they treated in their local community (Lang 2013: 212–213). sat 3 1538; uti 5 3177; cusas 5 238: 5–7; Heimpel 2009: 38, 325. arm 26 278; see also Sasson 2015: 333. saa 8 463 rev. 2–6 (a bārû who is very ill [ma-a-du ma-ru-uṣ] needs to be seen by an asû); saa 13 66 obv. 16–rev. 14′ (Urdu-Nabû writing to the king that he could not travel from Kalḫu to Aššur because he is severly ill, and asks for the king to make one āšipu and one asû available for him to cure him); saa 16 26 obv. 8–rev. 2 (the king is asked to give a royal order for an asû to visit and inspect a female servant who is so ill that she does not even eat bread anymore). On one occasion, two asûs were sent to the Neo-Assyrian king from Arrapḫa by its governor, but the goal and purpose of their journey was not disclosed to these asûs (saa 15 4 obv. 5).
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The royal practice of requesting and dispatching healers is well documented in the Late Bronze Age,104 and a particularly interesting example is again the case of Rabâ-ša-Marduk, who as mentioned above, was sent to serve at Babylon and later even the Hittite court.105 Asûs did not only travel by order of the state, but also to find or visit their own clients. As argued above, asûs who relied on private clients were often asûs who mainly served the people in their local community, who knew them well and could easily find them. This is also seen in the case of a patient who could not walk but was brought on a bed to the house of another healer, the gallābu.106 Although patients could clearly visit their preferred healers, sometimes healers needed to visit their patients in their homes;107 for instance, when a patient was too ill to go or even to be transported to a healer’s house, when someone suffering from an illness did not want to be seen by the public, or when a patient was placed in quarantine. Clients actively sought out asûs and requested a house visit, as seen for instance in the Old Babylonian letter im 49233, sent by a man suffering from a skin affliction (simmu) to “his brother”.108 The author writes that he repeatedly wrote to an asû, but the latter did not come, and he therefore asks the addressee to dispatch an asû quickly so that the latter can examine (li-mur-ma) the ailment.109 Moreover, there probably were asûs who needed to go around and advertise their skills to find clients, so-called travelling or wandering healers.110 And perhaps rural asûs traveled to the cities to offer their services there, where their
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E.g. Edel 1976; Brinkman 1980: 468; Zaccagnini 1983: 250–256; 1987; Liverani 1990; Beckman 2013; Couto-Ferreira 2013a. Heeßel 2009; Devecchi and Sibbing-Plantholt 2020. arm 26 282, see paragraph 5.2.4. This is alluded to in the opening line of the diagnostic omen series Sakikkû: enūma ana bīt marṣi āšipu illaku, “when an āšipu goes to the house of a sick person” (e.g. George 1991; Heeßel 2001–2002). For patients being treated at home, see further the Kassite medical letters, in which patients were treated with the help of the household members who assisted the healers, for instance with applying bandages (Sibbing Plantholt 2014; see also Worthington 2009: 58–59. Compare also King 1991: 18, who states that in ancient Greece, women and children as part of the household took care of the ill and could be asked by iatroi to help with certain procedures, such as reshaping a broken nose with their soft hands. Cf. Waschow 1936: 25, who assumes that workplace of healer Šumu-libši was “eine Klinik”). Also kings and high officials were treated in the inner quarters of the palace, see paragraph 6.3.3. Al-Aʾdami 1967: 157–158, plate 3; Worthington 2009: 60. cad s: 277; al-Aʾdami (1967: 157–158) reads li-ḫir₂-ma. See also Worthington 2009: 60; compare Nutton 2013: 153–155.
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alternative medical knowledge was highly esteemed, even by the kings; this will be discussed in the next paragraph. 6.3.2
Asûs of the City/State Administration and the asûs from the Periphery Sources from Mari show that state-supported, urban asûs were considered to be different from the asûs originating from and practicing in the rural periphery, and that they worked in competition with each other. This is most clearly described by Mari letter lapo 16 171,111 which mentions the differences in treatment of ḫimiṭ ṣēti-disease by an asû bīt têrtim, an “asû of the state administration”, and an “asû of Mardaman”.112 The author of the letter, Dariš-libur, reports to the king that, as the latter already tried the medication (šammu) of the asû of the state administration and this did not work, he should try that of an asû from Mardaman, which had already been taken by Dariš-libur as well as two others and had been proven effective. The trust in asûs from Mardaman also is described in Mari letter arm 14 3 (lapo 16 172), in which a servant ill with a skin affliction (ṣītu, simmu) had been bandaged113 by two asûs, but to no avail. In order to keep the skin affliction from persisting, the king is asked for a lu₂a-zu Mar-da-ma-na-ia-am u₂-lu-ma 1 lu₂a-zu ḫa-ka-[ma]-am, “an asû from Mardaman or one experienced asû.”114 It seems that if an asû from Mardaman was not available,115 another (perhaps more locally accessible) experienced asû could have served as an alternative. It is not clear whether asûs from Mardaman were at work in Mari as traveling or relocated healers, offering their services in the medical marketplace, or if asûs from Mardaman were dispatched to Mari. Either way it is clear that asûs from Mardaman were reputable and were renowned for their knowledge and the efficacy of their treatments, which were different from those of the asûs working for the state administration. These
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A 2216, Finet 1954–1957: 134–135; Durand 1988: 557. For Mardaman, see paragraph 3.2.3.2 and below. Finet 1954–1957: 134; Groneberg 1980: 160; Edzard 1989; see also Heimpel 1974: 118. u₂-ṣa-ma-du-šu-ma, arm 14 3 (lapo 16 172): 10 (amendation of Finet 1954–1957: 132, plate ii); see cad s: 171; Durand 1988: 552; 1997: 307. arm 14 3 (= A 140), Finet 1954–1957: 131; Durand 1988: 552; 1997: 307; Geller 2010a: 64. Hakammu is derived from the verb ḫakāmu, “to understand”, see AHw: 309; note that the Amaraic equivalent ḥakkîm was used to indicate an ʾsyʾ, the Aramaic version of asû, as well as the ʾšpyʾ, probably Aramaic for āšipu in the Qumran Genesis Apocryphon xx line 18–20 (Dion 1989: 214); see also the Arabic word ḫakīm, “healer”. Finet (1954–1957: 134) believed that “asû of Mardaman” refers to one specific individual; either way, the term “asû of Mardaman” clearly stands for a specific kind of asû who is contrasted with the asû working for the Mari administration (Durand 1988: 557; 1997: 307).
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healers were probably highly valued for their indigenous knowledge and practice; the area they were native to (i.e. the fertile Selevani plain, bordered the Zagros mountains)116 gave them access to and experience with different medicinal substances than the asûs in the Mari region, such as herbs, minerals, and plants from the mountains.117 The difference between medicinal plants growing in the steppe and in the mountains is also emphasized in the Letter of Sîn-iddinam to Ninisina, in which Sîn-iddinam states that neither in the steppe nor in the mountains did medicinal plants grow that could heal his illness.118 As discussed in paragraph 3.2.3.2, Mardaman was a cult center of Gula in the Middle Assyrian period, and there may well be a link between the asûs from Mardaman, who were considered so reputable in Mari, and the emergence of a cult of Gula at this site in the following centuries. The royal interest in asûs from other regions has already been touched upon, such as the asûs who were called to come to Ebla,119 the exchange of scholars during the Late Bronze Age, and the Neo-Assyrian king asking for two asûs from Arrapḫa.120 But there is also evidence for urban asûs being preferred, probably because (some of) these had established a name and reputation through state support. In the previously mentioned Middle Babylonian letter N 1286, the author asks his overlord not to send an asû to him, but to make an asû available for him in Nippur. The author is in Irrēya, a place located between the Diyala and the Lower Zab, where according to him, there is no asû.121 It is also possible that this was an excuse to be healed in Nippur by a city asû, versus one operating in rural areas, and consequently may reflect a different appreciation for local, peripheral asûs and the asûs in the cities.
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Pfälzner and Qasim 2017: 12–13; Pfälzner and Faist 2020: 347–348. See also Durand 1988: 557; 1997: 306. Labeling Mardaman as an “important medical center” (Pfälzner and Faist 2020: 368) is problematic, as it conjures up connotations of institutionalized and centralized scholarly medical education; it is more likely that at this time and at this location, these healers were highly valued for their indigenous knowledge and practice. Letter-Prayer from Sîn-iddinam to Ninisina line 27, Brisch 2007: 142–145. For medicinal plants that have to be retrieved from mountainous areas, see also Reiner 1995: 39–40 and paragraph 4.2.1.4. D’Agostino 2003; see paragraph 8.3.3. saa 15 4 obv. 5; see previous paragraph. See paragraph 5.1. See also AbB 6 22, which reports that no bārû is available in a rural village (i-na ka-ap-ri-im ba-ru-um u₂-ul i-ba-aš-ši, line 28–29); see also Worthington 2009: 60.
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6.3.3 Royal Recognition: asûs Working Directly for Palace and King The relationship between a king and his asûs is particularly well-known from the Neo-Assyrian period.122 However, as mentioned earlier in the previous paragraphs, already in the early 3rd millennium b.c.e., asûs worked directly for the palace and the king. Some of them were of low status and insignificant to the king, and others worked directly with the king or queen.123 The term azu lugal, “the asû of the king”, referred to asûs having obtained royal trust and recognition who were allowed to treat the king and royal family. It can already be found in an administrative record dated to the reign of Šulgi or Amar-Sîn, in which flour, bread, beer, malt and oil are distributed to Gu-ba-ba-a, the azu lugal, “the asû of the king”, who travels to Susa (šušin-še₃ gen-na).124 The relationship between an asû and the king is expressed in a special way at Mari, namely through a basilophorous name: a junior asû sent by the king to Ekallatum to learn from an asû practicing there carried the name Šamši-Adad-tukultī, “(The king) Šamši-Adad is my protection”.125 The Middle Assyrian Palace Decrees also refer to a type of asû who stood close to the king: the asû ša bētānu (a-su-u₂ ša be-ta-a-[n]u), “asû of the inner quarters”, who served the palace as one of its highest officials; he inspected courtiers together with the rab ekalle (“palace overseer”), nāgir ekalle (“palace herald”), and the rab zāriqē (“chief officer”).126 This asû thus practiced in the inner, most private sections of the palace, closest to the king.127 This is also an area where one can retreat and not be seen by the larger public, which lends itself well as a place of recovery in case of illness for the elite. Another reference to healing and recovery taking place in the Inner Parts of the palace or royal structures is the case of Ilī-padâ, son of Asyrian king Aššur-iddin and grand vizir (sukallu rabiu) during the reign of Tukultī-Ninurta i, who had fallen severly ill. As he recovered, he was up and about in the private, living area (bētu) of the structure he resided in, but could not yet go out to the public part (bābu),
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See for instance the correspondence between the Neo-Assyrian kings and their scholars, including asûs, in saa 10 (see also Jean 2006); see also saa 7 1, a list of experts at the royal court, listing 9 asûs (saa 7 1 obv. ii 7–16). See also the Eblaite female asû Ṭūbī-Damu mentioned in paragraph 6.2.3, who received allotments directly from the queen. mvn 22 101: 11–12, Waetzoldt 1972: 274 (note to 103). For asûs at Susa, see Amiet 1972: no. 2325; Dossin 1927: no. 130: 6. For more on asûs in the Ur iii period, see Heimpel 2009: 2, 38, 220, 325; Owen 2011 (see also Falkenstein 1956: 2 126). lapo 16 170 (arm 4 65): 14, see paragraph 6.3.5. Middle Assyrian Palace Decrees section 8 (lines 48–51), Weidner 1954–1956: 276; Roth 1997: 195, 200–201; Jakob 2003: 76, 85. The cad (Z: 68) interprets this as asûs confined to the inside of the harem.
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as pus was still running from his wounds or sores.128 The asûs working in these private parts of the residences of kings and high officials must have gained the highest trust of the king. An example of an asû who obtained royal recognition is the previously mentioned Middle Babylonian asû Rabâ-ša-Marduk, who may have worked at the Babylonian royal court and was sent to the Hittite court in a diplomatic exchange. The king relied on these healers and must have had great confidence in them. That asûs could be so well respected that their orders were accepted as authoritative even by the king is shown by arm 26 276.129 In this Mari letter, high official Sammêtar informs the king that according to the asû who bandaged him,130 he needs rest and should not leave his house if he wants to be spared by the divine. He then states: an-ni-tam lu₂a-su-u₂-um iq-[b]e₂-e-em [u₃] a-na siskur₂-re ša ddi-ri-tim [u₂-ul al-li-ik] this is what the asû said to me, so I am not going to the sacrifices for Diritum.131 The asû’s judgement apparently carried enough weight to allow Sammêtar to deny the king’s orders to come discuss an important letter sent by Hammurabi and not take part in an important religious festival.132 That asûs had been working in royal circles as long as the royal office existed is not surprising: after all, the health of the land greatly depended on the health of the king. The asûs working for the king did however not have to be adapted to the hegemonic enterprise; the actions they applied to the king to restore his health could well be based on domestic and holistic notions and did not need to mediate between king and the divine. This is well illustrated in the involvement of the asûs from Mardaman at the Mari court. These healers were probably employed because of their indigenous healing expertise and special knowledge of the natural environment and its healing substances, not because it was their prerogative to access divine knowledge to maintain cosmic order and support
128 129 130 131 132
Cancik-Kirschbaum 1996: 131–132 no 8: 48–53. Durand 1988: 550; Sasson 2015: 150. lu₂a-su-u₂-[um] / ša u₂-ra-ak-ka-s[a-an-ni], arm 26 276: 16–17. arm 26 276: 25–27. For illness as an excuse for unfinished or delayed work, see Durand 1988: 549–550; for the king’s orders to an asû to travel but these being denied, see arm 26 267; Durand 1988: 556; Geller 2010a: 65.
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kingship. Such a role of asûs can first be discerned in the Middle Babylonian period, when asûs entered the scholarly circles; this will be discussed in the following paragraph. 6.3.4 Asûs as Scholars Elite, specialist, and literate asûs who could read and produce texts, or perhaps rather the interest of scholars in asûtu, can be traced back to the 3rd millennium b.c.e.133 It is however not until the 2nd half of the following millennium b.c.e., a time crucial for the development of scholarly identity, that a certain group of asûs can be identified as “professional asûs”. As seen in paragraph 1.3.2, medical professionalization depends on several factors. Firstly, professional healers lay a claim to healing and make their services exclusive and superior to those of other healers. For this, they need a special relationship to the state or the ruling elite that grants the acknowledgement and privilege of superiority over other healing occupations. In addition, they mark their knowledge, services, and techniques off from other healers by asserting exclusive abilities, which is established through social closure and claims to special and even supernatural powers; this provides charismatic authority. Scholarly asûs in the Middle Babylonian period indeed met these qualifications. Even when some of these criteria could be met already in earlier periods, this professionalization of asûs is not clearly and systematically reflected in the textual and iconographical record until the Middle Babylonian period. As seen, evidence for asûs working for the king dates already to the 3rd millennium b.c.e. But in the late 2nd millennium b.c.e., certain highly educated, urban, respected asûs with a connection to the king joined the circle of ummânus, “scholars”, who as demonstrated in paragraph 5.3, developed a unique royal client-patron-relationship. Although the term asû remained a general term that could be applied to a broad range of healers, evidence from the 1st millennium b.c.e. shows clearly that asûs could be perceived as these ummânus.134 In Neo-Assyrian letter saa 10 160, the author attempts to convince the king of the competence of a group of bārûs, asûs, āšipus, kalûs and ṭupšarrus. They are called um-me-a-meš le-ʾu-u₂-tu, “able scholars,”135 in particular with regards to performing mīs pî ceremonies, purifications and healing the
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For 3rd millennium b.c.e. medical texts that contain knowledge of asûs and could have been written by asûs, see Civil 1960; 1961; Fronzaroli 1998; Bonechi 2003; Neumann 2010; and paragraph 6.2. Parpola 1993: xvii–xxiv. saa 10 160 rev. 35.
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sick. One of the asûs is even referred to as ma-aʾ-diš i-le-ʾe-e, “(the asû) is very able”.136 saa 10 160 thus shows that the scholars received their ability or expertise by undergoing scholarly training: leʾû, “to be able; to know the art of something; to be an expert in something”, indicates a thorough, official training and completion of apprenticeship.137 The use of the cognate adjective lēʾû “competent, skilled (one)”, as well as mūdû, “educated one”,138 by scholars to stress their outstanding competence and intelligence and keep their circle limited to a few initiated experts, can also be dated to the Middle Babylonian period. A Middle Babylonian seal bearing a wisdom text that draws a clear connection between Gula and professional asûs emphasizes the importance of an asû to be skilled (leʾû) in the art of healing (bulluṭu). It further states that those asûs represented by the goddess Gula—and thus possessing her special divine healing knowledge—should be sought out for this very reason.139 This qualification is mentioned as well in the Poor Man of Nippur, an Akkadian composition preserved in fragments from the 1st millennium b.c.e. but originally dating to the Middle Babylonian period based on the locale of the story and the syllabary used.140 In this story, a poor man has inflicted injuries on a mayor as retribution for being wronged. As part of a trick he poses as an asû, and as he is able to point out where the afflictions of the mayor are (which he of course caused himself), the mayor utters “asû lēʾûma”, “(he is) a skilled asû indeed!”141 Hand in hand with the newly developed identity of scholars and thus the scholarly, professional asûs, a new definition of the word asûtu emerged. Whereas until then, it generally meant “the art, knowledge of healing”, it became a term for a scholarly branch or even text corpus that was considered secret lore protected by scholar, god and king and that served to maintain cosmic order. The Tukultī-Ninurta Epic may contain a reference to the asûtu as written scholarly lore, or at least medical knowledge recorded on tablets, as Tukultī-Ninurta boasts about having carried off from Babylonia mal-ṭa-rat asu-ti ne₂-peš na-[a]ṣ-m[a-da-(a)-te?], “texts (recording) asûtu and procedures
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saa 10 160 rev. 33. For a study of the verb leʾû and its meaning of “to be able” as well as “to have power (over)” and “to master”, see Veenhof 1986; see also Rochberg 2016: 62–63. For leʾû denoting wellversed scholars (rather than skilled workmen), see Groß 2018: 272–373. See paragraph 7.2.1. Lambert 1988 (Sotheby’s 1988: no. 115); Stiehler-Alegria Delgado 1996: no. 243; see paragraph 8.2. Reiner 1986: 2–3; Dietrich 2009. Poor Man of Nippur line 126, Gurney 1956: 156–157; Attinger 2008: 48. For a discussion of this composition, see paragraph 7.2.3.
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for (preparing) ban[dages]”.142 As demonstrated in Chapter 5, asûtu had been an incoherent genre that because of its pre- or non-hegemonic nature did not quite fit in the scholarly curriculum. In the course of the 1st millennium b.c.e., and possibly already late 2nd millennium b.c.e., the scholarly, professional asûs made an effort to structure and serialize their written corpus. For this, the Aššur Medical Catalogue, the catalogue of scholarly asûtu, is the clearest evidence.143 Asûtu became designated as scholarly knowledge that could only be accessed by professional, scholarly healers with an understanding of such complex material, and otherwise by their patrons: the divine and the king. This will further be discussed in Part 3. The increasing role of asûs in the production of medical texts and arcane medical knowledge in the Middle Babylonian period can be identified through the legacy of the famous asû Rabâ-ša-Marduk, who can be labeled as such a professional healer. This asû, whose patron was the king, established a well-known “house”, which could refer to a kin group, a household, or a school or head quarters for asûs.144 The Bīt Rabâ-ša-Marduk was referred to as an ancestral house in the 1st millennium b.c.e., and medical texts produced by Rabâ-ša-Marduk, his family members, and/or students became part of a library in Aššur.145 He thus served as a human legendary ancestor to professional asûs.146 These scholarly, professional asûs participated in social closure, i.e. the attempts to keep the scholarly knowledge secretive and only accessible to this elite group of highly educated men who stood under patronage of the king and the divine. No labels “secret of the asû” have been found, but several medical texts, in particular those recording the preparation of šammu- and mašqītumedications, which are closely associated with asûs,147 were labeled niṣirti šarrūti, “secret of kingship”.148 One text refer the šammus of the king or kingship.149
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Tukulti-Ninurta Epic [bm 98730] rev. 8′, Lambert 1957–1958: 44–45; Machinist 1978: 128– 129. See also Böck 2014: 17. Steinert 2018a; 2018b; see Chapter 8. Devecchi and Sibbing-Plantholt 2020; Brinkman (2019: 142) recently summarized wide range of spatial or social meanings of bītu. Devecchi and Sibbing-Plantholt 2020. With his status, education and power, he must have been able to assert exclusive healing abilities that were acknowledged by the king, and perhaps also instilled by the divine asû Gula, see im 49104 (Bartelmus 2017: 312; Devecchi and Sibbing-Plantholt 2020; see paragraph 3.2.4.1). See paragraph 8.3.2. bam 42 obv. 12 // bam 556 ii 69′; bam 42 obv. 35; bam 44 rev. 32; bam 50 rev. 23; bam 579 iv 32, 44, Lenzi 2008a: 185; see also Steinert 2018a: 191 n. 171. ⸢dug⸣ta-ri-ḫu ša₂ u₂-ḫi-a ša₂ lugal, bam 44 rev. 40′; u₂-ḫi-a šeš ni-ṣir-ti lugal-ti, bam 579 iv
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Moreover, certain colophons of king Assurbanipal claimed medical texts as special knowledge and lore of professional asûs, Gula and her spouse Ninurta, and the king.150 The role of the king as the patron of the medical knowledge was thus established, as well as the role of professional asûs as the guardians of this scholarly medical knowledge. As mentioned in paragraph 5.3, scholars began to explicitly claim patronage of legendary ancestors and mythological and divine figures in the Middle Babylonian period. Also medical knowledge was traced back to the apkallus, the mythological sages, as seen in the colophon of amt 105, 1, a 1st millennium b.c.e. manuscript of the 3rd tablet of the series ugu/CRANIUM. It claims that the recipes for salves and bandages it contains originate from the antideluvian apkallus and were drawn up by Enlil-muballiṭ, a human apkallu from Nippur (nun-me nibruki) who supposedly lived during the time of Isin-king Enlil-bani.151 Most importantly, the professional asûs posed as human counterparts to Gula. Divine patronage could be claimed by these asûs through their scholarly prerogative to communicate with the divine. The rise of Gula as by far the most prominent divine asû who bore this title regularly and in a variety of text genres, is parallel to the development of the identity of these professional asûs. This divine legitimization model, in addition to their rigorous scholarly training and royal acknowledgement, allowed for the professional asûs to assert extraordinary skills and enforce charismatic authority. It was the way for these asûs to set themselves apart from other healers, including those who also were called asûs but were not initiated in their select group of professional scholars. This process is described in detail in Part 3. 6.3.5 The Organization of asûs: Overseers, Apprentices, and Guilds In smaller villages, asûs may have been less organized and had fewer opportunities to climb up the social ladder than asûs in the city.152 Asûs in urban settings
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31; see Lenzi 2008a: 185 (some of these were prepared with the help of the divine asû Gula; see bam 579 iv 33–43). Assurbanipal colophon type q; Hunger 1968: 103 no. 329: 2–8; for a discussion, see Chapter 8.2. amt 105, 1 iv 23′–24′, Lambert 1957: 7–8; Lenzi 2008a: 117–120, 127, 200–201; Steinert 2018a: 191 n. 171. Note that all human apkallus were dated to the early 2nd millennium b.c.e., which indicates that the late 2nd millennium b.c.e. was conceptualized as the time when apkallus transitioned into mythological predecessors to the ummânu (Lenzi 2008a: 127– 128, see also paragraph 5.3). In the Netherlands in the Early Modern period, there were different rules for physicians in the countryside, who did not need to undergo any training, as opposed to “city physicians”, who needed to undergo a master’s examination (Bruijn 2009: 37–40). Local authorities, or
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seem to have adhered to a hierarchical organizational structure: a system of overseers, experienced and unexperienced asûs, and apprentices, which could be labeled “guilds”. A hierarchy among asûs is already evident in the Early Dynastic period, and throughout Mesopotamian history one can find references to “head asûs” or asû overseers. More than one ugula a-zu₅ operated at Fara/Šuruppak,153 and a-zu-gal can also already be found in the Early Dynastic and Sargonic periods, when they were considered to be high dignitaries.154 A-zu-gals are also attested several times in the Old Babylonian period.155 Šēp-Sîn, son of Ipquša, is called a-zu-gal on a votive jar he dedicated to the god Amurru for the life of his king Rīm-Sîn of Larsa.156 An a-zu-gal with the name Marduk-nāṣir received commodities in the 28th year of Samsu-iluna.157 As mentioned earlier in paragraph 3.1.2, the seal of Būr-nunu, son of Mašum, the a-zu-gal, was found on several texts from Sippar.158 As these seal impressions were found on tags bearing names of hired workers, it is likely that Būr-nunu was involved with hiring workers.159 Moreover, a Sippar administrative text describes the neighbor to a field as “a daughter of an a-zu-gal,” or perhaps better, “the daughter of the azu-gal”.160 The fact that neither her name nor her father’s name is mentioned indicates that the father’s title was enough to identify him, and perhaps this means that there were few or just a single person with this title at a time in a city.161
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simply the patients themselves, regulated who was allowed to practice (Bruijn 2009: 29– 30, 35). According to English law, anyone could serve as a healer as long as the patient consented (Cook 1986: 28; Bruijn 2009: 30). Visicato 1995: 7–12, 23, 25; see also Pomponio and Visicato 1994: 43 no. 3 obv. 9–10, 322 no. 116 rev. ii 16–17. bin 8 62 obv. i 4 (Powell 1978: 16); A 863: 5 (Westenholz 1987: 199); cusas 13 59 obv. 7′ (a list of various workmen only named with occupations and their supervisor). See also the a-zu-gal who received garlic in Nippur (osp 2 124 obv. i 6). In cusas 35 360 rev. i 12, an account of gold and silver from Adab, an a-zu-gal is among other high officials. See also Charpin 2017: 54; 213. rime 4.2.14.2004: 6–7; Sotheby’s Monaco: 42–43 lot 66; Klotchkoff 1994; see also Moorey 1999: 95. For personal communication between the collection holders and various scholars (e.g. W.G. Lambert, R. Kovacs and P. Amiet) concerning the inscription, see http:// www.georgeortiz.com/objects/near‑east/017‑small‑jar‑with‑inscription‑babylon/ (visited on 2 October, 2016). Jacquet and Reculeau 2019: 486 (A 150 [rfh 56] obv. 2). Note that it is unclear whether the profession belongs to the father or the son (Harris 1975: 273 n. 24). Harris 1975: 273. ct 8 18c: 2; Harris 1975: 273. See also Harris 1975: 273.
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In the Middle and Neo-Babylonian sources, the term rab asê (gal a-se-e) was used for a leading asû.162 This position does not occur very often and was therefore probably also held by only a few. Lenzi (2008a: 76 n. 51) interprets the rab asê as a level within the hierarchy of scholars, but it is also conceivable that this term could refer to the head of a group of non-scholarly and thus nonprofessional asûs. Either way, the rab asê must have held a respectful position within his circles, and the rab asê of a city overseeing urban (scholarly) asûs would probably have such a high position that they could have served the king, which was the case in the Middle- and Neo-Assyrian period.163 The colophon of K 8663 states that it is written by an asû, descendent of the rab asê of king Adad-Nērārī,164 and although he is never mentioned by this title, court asû Urdu-Nanaya may have been the rab asê under Neo-Assyrian king Esarhaddon, as well as his colleague Ikkāru.165 Their letters to the king indicate that these court asûs were in charge of other asûs.166 According to Neo-Assyrian sources, the rab asê could have a deputy, the šanû ša rab asê,167 which adds another tier to the hierarchical structure of groups of (urban) asûs. There are also a few references to trainees and asûs at the very beginning of their career. Well-known are the 1st millennium b.c.e. scholarly apprentices or junior asûs (a-zu tur/asû ṣeḫru, asû agašgû) who, as stated in colophons, copied medical texts.168 But there are already hints towards asûs in training in 2nd millennium b.c.e. sources. Harris (1975: 271) mentions a 162
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See Kassite administrative document be 14 111: 15 (Sassmannshausen 2001: 73); saa 11 183 rev. 1; saa 12 82 obv. 8′, 86 rev. 21 (as well as below for the šanû ša rab asê); a Neo-Babylonian rab asî occurs in the archive of the Ebabbar at Sippar: Coll. Smit 110: 26; Bongenaar 1997: 135. Parpola 1993: xxiv; see also saa 12 82 obv. 8′. ⸢lu₂gal a⸣-zu, K 8663 iv 5 (Hunger 1968: 141 no. 528). For a picture of the tablet, see the cdli website https://cdli.ucla.edu/dl/photo/P397723.jpg (visited on 4 February 2020). See also Schmidtchen apud Geller and Panayotov 2020: 236, 244 for a rab asê ([l]u₂gal a-zu-meš […] aš-šurki) in the colophon of a manuscript of Sakikkû 5 (amt 105, 2 iv 6′). Parpola (1993: xxv–xxvi) and Radner (pna 3/2: 1411) call Urdu-Nanaya “chief physician”; for Ikkāru, see Parpola 1993: xxv–xxvi; pna 2/1: 509. saa 10 330; see Parpola 1993: xxvi. Banî the šanû ša rab asê is a witness in saa 6 320 rev. 5, 321 rev. 8′, 325 rev. 18′, 328 rev. 9, 339 rev. 8 (pna 1/1: 264). See also a man named Urdu-Gula in saa 6 193 rev. 9′ with this title, who may or may not be the same person as the famous āšipu Urdu-Gula (pna 3/2: 1402 treats them as two different entries). E.g. CMAwR 7.18: 37′′ (kal 2 9 rev. 16′), see paragraph 3.3.1.3; Aššur Medical Catalogue line 127 (Steinert 2018a: 172; 2018b: 219, 278); ao 11447: 83–88, apprentice of Urdu-Nanaya, asû of Esarhaddon (Labat 1959: 13; Geller 2007e: 14); Hunger 1968: 79 no. 234 line 2 (bam 1 iv 27); 117 no. 382 line 6 (stt 301 vi 6–7); see further Scurlock 1999: 75 n. 36, 78 footnotes 56 and 59; Maul 2010: 209–211; Geller 2010a: 130, 192; Frahm 2018: 27–28.
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potential reference to an apprentice asû from Old Babylonian Sippar, where an Ibni-Marduk is called dumu (banda₃?) a-zu.169 There is a reference to the apprenticeship of a junior asû in a Mari letter that records the treatment of Išme-Dagan for a simmu, “skin affliction”.170 The latter was treated by an asû of Yasmah-Addu, who used a poultice that according to Išme-Dagan was “very good” (ma-di-iš dam-qu₂, line 7), obviously meaning that it healed him to some extent. Išme-Dagan was so impressed with the healing properties of the medication171 that he sent a junior asû (lu₂tur a-se-em)172 to Yasmaḫ-Addu to see with his own eyes which plants were used and learn how it should be prepared. There thus seems to be a relationship between older, more experienced asûs and the apprentices they trained.173 This gives the impression that the asûs were organized according to a structure that is a reminiscent of a guild. The organization of asûs through families can be detected from the Ur iii period until the late 1st millennium b.c.e. Family members with the same healing occupation asû are already found in the Ur iii period, in the famous brothers Šu-kabta and Nawir-ilum and their potential sister Ubartum, who all were asûs.174 Old Babylonian sources are the administrative text cusas 9 381 rev. 13′-14′, which refers to an asû and his brother, and perhaps the Mari letter in which an asû is ordered by the king to go to Šubat-Enlil, but his brother, perhaps also an asû, refuses.175 Another reference to asûs structured as families are the allusions to asû ancestors. The first case of a family or ancestral house of (professional) asûs that produced medical texts stems from the Middle Babylonian period, namely the house of the famous asû Rabâ-ša-Marduk.176 Neo-Assyrian asûs liked to refer to their legendary ancestors from the Middle
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Goetze 1957: 34 no. 25: 9. lapo 16 170 (arm 4 65). For simmu at Mari and the conclusion that simmu is a general term for a skin affliction, see also Durand 1988: 552; Fincke 2011: 169–172; see also Stol 1991–1992: 63. si-im-mu-um mi-im-ma u₂-ṣi-im-ma qa-ta-qa-ti ša-am-mu-um šu-u₂ i-ḫe-es-si-šu, “when a skin affliction erupts, that šammu-medication cures it immediately”, lapo 16 170: 8–12 (see also Durand 1997: 305; cad q: 166). lapo 16 170: 14. Collation by Durand 1997: 305 n. 78 (the sign tur is omitted by Dossin [1951: 92–93]). See also Maul 2010; Geller 2010a: 130–140 for different degrees of scholarly (medical) training and apprenticeship. Kleinerman 2011a. arm 26 267; Durand 1988: 556; Geller 2010a: 65. Devecchi and Sibbing-Plantholt 2020; for Rabâ-ša-Marduk, see paragraph 6.3.1. On a Kassite seal, the owner as well as his (fore)father is an asû (cco 2 A 619; Lambert 1965: 182; Limet 1971: 98 no. 7.17, inscription kišib Igar-gar-dmes a-zu a d30-maš a-zu-ma). However, these lines may have been added in the 1st millennium b.c.e.
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Assyrian period, who held high positions and were associated with the king, in order to establish the legitimacy of their profession. This can for instance be seen in the case of the asû referring to his ancestry having been a rab asê under king Adad-Nērārī.177 In the Neo-Babylonian period, asû had become a family name.178 Evidence from the Middle Babylonian period reveal that the internal structure of asûs could perhaps be overseen by bārûs. As will be discussed in Chapter 8, bārûs were colleague healers who collaborated closely with asûs, but also may have had a certain amount of control over asûs since they could dispatch them. Erība-Marduk, probably a bārû based on the acts he performed, reported in a letter to his overlord in Nippur about an omen (lipit qāti) regarding which the king was advised to not travel, because his physical wellbeing could not be guaranteed.179 Erība-Marduk further observed the eating pattern of the son of the king, who thus might have been under his supervision because he was ill.180 Erība-Marduk’s relation with asûs is demonstrated in the fact that his lord asked him to dispatch an asû, and Erība-Marduk asked for the asû to be returned: aš-šum lu₂a-zu ša a-na be-li₂-i[a] aš-pu-ra be-li₂ lu₂a-zu liš-pu-r[a] Concerning the asû that I sent to my lord: may my lord send the asû back to me!181 Another connection between asûs and bārûs can be established in the fact that professional asûs could be descendants of bārûs.182
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K 8663 iv 5 (Hunger 1968: 141 no. 528), mentioned in the previous paragraph. For scholars (to which the asû belonged in the Neo-Assyrian period, see below) belonging to families who continually occupied prominent positions at the royal court, see Parpola 1983: xvii–xix; 1993: viii–xxvii; Frahm 1999: 78–79; Radner 2011: 363–364. For the NeoBabylonian family name Asû, see paragraph 6.3.7. li-pi-it qa-ti ki-i aš-šu-u₂ te-e-er-tu a-na […] a-na urunibruki a-na a-la-ki ul ṭa-a-ab, “when I performed the lipit qāti-ritual, the oracular decision […] for a journey to Nippur it is not favourable”, pbs 1/2 58: 7–10. For the letter, see also Waschow 1936: 21–22; Sassmannshausen 2001: 14 n. 167, 72–73; Sibbing Plantholt 2014: 173, 180. mi-im-ma ma-la dumu lugal i-ku-lu₄ ki-i al-tap-p[a-r]a a-na be-li₂-ia uš-te-⸢bi⸣-la, “everything the son of the king ate I write down and send to my lord”, pbs 1/2 58: 20–24. pbs 1/2 58: 18–19. See paragraph 8.3.1.
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6.3.6 Asûs and the Temple It has been argued that asûs had no connection to cult and did not function as priests. For instance, van Driel (2002: 36 n. 6) states that the lack of prebends of asûs is due to asûs not being connected to the cult, because “the gods did not need the asû”.183 Also Hoskisson (1986: 235) found that none of the references to asûs in the Mari texts were associated with a deity or cult, and concluded that the office of asû was not connected with any cult.184 However, asûs could be involved in cultic matters, perhaps as part of their duties for the state. They were for instance assigned to perform (royal) offerings at temples. The brothers Šu-kabta and Nawir-ilum as well as Ubartum, who was probably their sister, all high ranking officials in the Ur iii period, bore the title asû and authorized offerings to Nintinuga and Ninisina, and Gula.185 In the Middle Babylonian administrative list tmh nf 5 29, barley is distributed to the asû Amurru-nāṣir for the parṣu “office” of the god Lātarāk, a gatekeeper of Gula.186 Šumu-libši, who is famous for writing many of the Middle Babylonian medical letters and who was assumably an asû,187 is likely mentioned as the one receiving oil for the temple of Gula in be 14 148, a list of oil allocations to temples.188 It has been 183 184 185
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187 188
The lack of prebends of asûs is also discussed in the next paragraph. See also Geller 2010a: 50–51. E.g. auct 1 241 (Nawir-ilum to Nintinuga, Damu, Gunura and Šumaḫ), tcl 2 5550 (Šukabta to Nintinuga), and nypl 221 (Ubartum to Ninisina and Nintinuga) and mvn 16 877 obv. 4, rev. 2 (Ubartum, without the title a-zu, to the temple of Gula), see Sallaberger 1993: 1 152; Such-Gutiérrez 2003: 2 Table 37.14.1; Kleinerman 2011a: 178; Paoletti 2012: 82–84, 252– 254; Tsouparopoulou 2020: 15, 18. It is possible that they performed these duties not as asûs but because of their privileged status or other functions, like šagina, “general” (Kleinerman 2011a). Heimpel (2009: 2) proposes the distinction between a functional and honorific title, and that Šu-kabta was asû by occupation, and šagina by rank. McAdams (2009 § 3.9) postulates that šagina is a hereditary rank like “lord”, only secondarily or not all indicating a function as general. Tsouparopoulou (2020: 17 n. 20) sees a link between this title as general and the fact that dogs are used for the military, but the asûs are only overseers and do not handle the dogs. tmh nf 5 29: 5 (Petschow 1974: 82 no. 31; see also Sassmannshausen 2001: 72). Lātarāk is a monstrous deity with lion features and/or an anthropomorphic deity covered in a lion skin that protects doorways (see Ellis 1977; Wiggermann 1992a: 37, 52, 60, 64, 86, 90). He is depicted together with Gula on a Neo-Assyrian seal (Ellis 1977: fig. 3). His connection to Gula may have been established through his ability to ward off illness (Maul 1992b; Wiggermann 2004: 378). Radau 1908: 37 n. 7; Waschow 1936: 25; Parpola 1983: 492–496; Sibbing Plantholt 2014. 3 [q]a e₂ dgu-la Imu-lib₂-ši, be 14 148 obv. 9 (see Sassmannshausen 2001: 158 for a transliteration of obv. 2–15, 18–29). Radau (1908: 37 n. 7) already proposed the identification of this Šumu-libši with the author of the medical letters, and was followed by Waschow (1936: 25), Volk (1999: 7 n. 41), and Sassmannshausen (2001: 73). Note also the siskur e₂ d⸢gu⸣-la in obv. 19 and the siskur dgu-la-u₂-[ri] in obv 25.
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proposed that he did this as a functionary at the temple,189 but it is also possible that in the Middle Babylonian period, like in the Ur iii period, asûs authorized royal offerings at temples. There remains very little evidence for asûs practicing healing in temples. Charpin (2011b; 2017) is convinced that the temples of the healing deities served as healing centers where healing practices were performed with dogs and medicinal plants, and alludes to the option that asûs would have practiced surgery at the temple.190 In the school text “Why Do You Cuss Me?” which may originate in the Middle Babylonian period, a šangû-priest of the Gula temple performs healing; George (1993b: 72) concluded that the priest must have been an asû first and then later got promoted to šangû-priest.191 Also May (2018) assumes that the Neo-Assyrian šangûs of Bau and Gula were medical specialists. The Esabad at Aššur, which served as a medical library, suggests that the temple played a part in preserving medical scholarly knowledge, and šangûpriests of Gula copied medical texts such as the Aššur Medical Catalogue.192 Although asûs generally do not fit well in the religious or cultic sphere and rather belong to the context of mundane, domestic medicine, it is conceivable that some cultic personnel would have been able to perform healing, as those channeling the healing goddesses’ power. In other words: asûs were not always priests or cultic personnel, but could be involved in cultic practices, and some priests might have served as asûs. For professional asûs this would have placed extra emphasis on the fact that their knowledge came straight from the divine and that they were the protégées of Gula; at Aššur, the fact that medical texts were stored in the temple demonstrates clearly that scholarly medical knowledge was labeled as divine.193 For the ill, Gula’s temples were places were the goddess could be asked to use her
189 190 191
192 193
Volk 1999: 7 n. 41; Worthington 2009: 58 n. 56. Charpin 2017: 58. There is no evidence of strict selection procedures for the asû like we have for 1st millennium b.c.e. bārûs, procedures that involve impeccable bodily features and being born into a particular family (Lambert 1998; see also Jiménez 2014; for the bārû as a priest, see Renger 1969: 203–223). However, he probably had a shaved head (see the Poor Man of Nippur lines 115–116, see paragraph 5.2.4). See also the title a-zu-išib (of Enlil) in yos 12 383: 8, Renger 1969: 124 n. 626b. Steinert 2018a: 172; 2018b: 219, 278 (line 127), see paragraphs 4.3.2 and 6.3.6; see further May 2018. See also Rochberg (2000: 372), who points out in regard to ṭupšarrūt Enūma Anu Enlil that there is a relationship between scholars and temples not through the fact that scholarship was religious practice, but rather that temples played a crucial part in the preservation and transmission of divine cuneiform scholarship.
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ultimate healing powers, in addition to the medical treatment already received, or as a last resort. Evidence for this practice are the ex-voto dedications to Gula’s temples in Babylonia and the sheep offering of princess Gizzāya in Gula’s temple at Aššur.194 As discussed in Part 1, this probably was the case for shrines of other healing goddesses as well; temples were places to invoke the divine embodiments of healing to save lives. It can therefore be concluded that asûs could be involved in the cult of healing goddesses, not to perform healing at their temples, but to promote their cult and perhaps as royal assignments. Especially professional asûs benefited from an association between them and Gula’s temples, as this reinforced their authority and legitimization; this will be discussed in Part 3. 6.3.7 Asû as an Occupation in the Late 1st Millennium b.c.e. After the Neo-Assyrian period, there are few references to asûs. It has been assumed that by the Late Babylonian period, their practice was largely taken over by the āšipu, and the asûs practiced outside large institutions.195 This conclusion is often based on the lack of asû prebend holders: there are no records of prebends of asûs (nor bārûs) after the Neo-Assyrian period, although prebends of āšipus (āšipūtu) existed into the Seleucid period.196 However, as seen in the previous paragraph, asûs were certainly not limited to temples. The majority of the asûs, who were hardly traceable in the cuneiform record anyway, would have simply continued. The occupation sometimes surfaces in Neo-Babylonian texts, such as the asû specialized in healing the eyes,197 and a rab asî in the archive of the Ebabbar at Sippar;198 according to Bongenaar (1997: 135) the latter was a state official. Furthermore, there is a reference to a certain man Bakûa, who is ša₂ e₂ a-se-e, “of the house(hold)/school of the asû”.199 Worthington (2009: 57) suggested that Bakûa was a patient residing in the bīt asê to receive treatment; however, e₂/bītu can have a wide range of spatial or social meanings, ranging from a group of kin, a household, or scribal house or school, and thus may well have been a member of a family of school of asûs.200 In addition, Asû
194 195 196
197 198 199 200
See paragraph 3.2.3.1. E.g. Oppenheim 1977: 293–296; Finkel 2000; Robson 2011: 558. Corò 2005: 146–152; Sallaberger and Vulliet 2005: 632; Geller 2010a: 50–52 (who states that it is conceivable that bārûs operated as freelance specialists who could offer their services to the temple as well as to private individuals, and takes asûs to be free-lance craftsmen). vs 6 242: 8, 17; see paragraph 6.2.2. Coll. Smit 110: 26; Bongenaar 1997: 135. ct 56 618: 4–5; Bongenaar 1997: 135; Joannès 2006: 84; Worthington 2009: 57. Recently summarized by Brinkman (2019: 142); see also Devecchi and Sibbing-Plantholt
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is a family name occurring in Neo-Babylonian Borsippa and Babylon.201 The professional asûs may have been less visible, and unlike the āšipūtu, texts that would be considered asûtu, namely therapeutic texts, were not part of the Late Babylonian scribal training.202 However, medical texts continue to be copied, which means that medical knowledge remained part of the scholars’ body of knowledge and probably also that professional asûs were active, although their status may have diminished. Also the cult of Gula continued, and the connection between her and asûs is preserved until the late 1st millennium b.c.e., for instance in copies of the Gula Hymn of Bulluṭsa-rabi. This will be discussed in Part 3. The office of asû further continued into and even past the late Babylonian periods under the Aramaic term ʾāsyāʾ. The latter may be found in the Qumran Genesis Apocryphon, and in a Nabatean inscription dating to 26 c.e., which mentions that an ʾāsyāʾ probably was the “regimental healer” of a Roman centuria.203 After this, the ʾāsyāʾ was well documented, as well as the term āsyûtāʾ, “cure”, and ʾāssēʾ, “to heal”, which are later developments in Aramaic, as no verb is known in Akkadian.204 Asû further persisted as a loan-word into Arabic and Ethiopic.205 The occupation is further documented in the Neo-Assyrian personal name assî (written Ia-si-i, once as Ia-si-iʾ, and once as Ias-si-i),206 the Aramaic form of which continues to be used into the 3rd and 4th century c.e., as the name of certain Jewish amoraim.207 All in all, the evidence for professional asûs diminished after the Neo-Assyrian period; nevertheless, the occupation asû as “healer” continued to exist until the end of cuneiform culture, and even beyond in its Aramaic equivalent.
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202 203 204 205 206 207
2020 for the bītu of Rabâ-ša-Marduk, referring to a house or school of healers; see Chapter 6. Wunsch 2000: nos. 125: 12, 15, 18, 21–22, 24; 127: 9, 10; 128: 3, 9, 14, 22, 6′′; 130: 2′, 4′, 14′, 22′; 131: 5, 7; 132: 2′, 13′; 133: 5, 4′; 143: 12; Waerzeggers 2010: 253 n. 897 (bm 96166); Zadok 2012: xxxii (bm 46919: 14). Finkel 2000; Gesche 2001. Dion 1989: 210–211, 213–214. Kaufman 1974: 37. See also Dion 1989: 210–211, 214–215; Sokoloff 2009: 72. see also Geller 2010a: 52. Kaufman 1974: 37; Dion 1989: 211. pna 1/1: 137–138. Lipiński 1975: 109–110; pna 1/1: 137.
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Conclusion
All in all, the term asû was a generic term for healers, male or female, who could restore the health of both humans and animals with the use of lifegiving substances. They were healers with a popular background who practiced indigenous healing based on a relation between humans and nature, and in principle, they were not attuned to or influenced by hegemonic operations and the theistic model. In congruence with this, asûtu was a general term meaning “the art, act, and knowledge of healing”—not a textual corpus. That asûs were knowledgeable about restoring health may be inherent to the title; it may refer to the knowledge of water, an essential life-giving and healing element, as well as fluids within the body, which are essential for the practice of healing. Study of asûs throughout Mesopotamian history reveals that asû was a term applied to a diverse group of healers from all segments of society, some having other main occupations while being known as asûs on the side, others making a living only being an asû. Although ancient law expresses a desire to control healers, their medical practices, and their fees, it had no influence on who called themselves asû. This was decided by the healers themselves and by their community and patients; an asû was whoever one was willing to call asû.208 The latter must have been the case especially in smaller communities and the countryside; in the cities, the state had a say in who was “approved” as an asû through endorsements. However, peripheral asûs could be highly respected in the cities and even at the royal court, as they possessed special healing knowledge and had access to medical substances that urban asûs did not have. In the city there may have been more structure and control due to the larger competition and the involvement of the state. The asûs in urban centers could treat patients from every social standing, including the elite, and even the king. Those who received state support, which seems to have been an acknowledgement of their skills and/or education, could be seen as “public asûs” who performed healing and other tasks for the government. They received rations that included medical substances, for which they were expected to provide healing for workmen and soldiers, travel to areas and visit patients by order of the 208
Compare the Greek iatros and Roman medicus, which were also not protected titles and could stand for a wide variety of healers, Nutton 1990: 256; 2013: 255–258; Salazar 2000: 85; Lang 2013: 218. Geller (2010a: 55) states that “there was no single standard qualification to distinguish objectively a ‘qualified’ practitioner from an unscrupulous quack or inspired charismatic miracle-worker”. This description of healers other than the scholars reflects the perspective of the Mesopotamian scholarly healers; this present study considers whom the scholars would call “quacks” and “miracle-workers” as potentially very capable and respected healers in their community who posed a threat to the scholars.
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state, and take on other duties, such as overseeing building projects. Some of these asûs were elected to work directly at the court as healers and even royal advisors—these asûs must have benefited from wealth, prestige, and patronage due to their proximity to the king.209 Asûs could be involved with cultic matters, especially those of healing goddesses, perhaps as part of their duties for the state. Some priests of these temples, in particular those of Gula, may also have practiced as asûs. Especially from the late 2nd millennium b.c.e. on, this bore significance, as a clear connection was drawn between Gula and asûs—not any asûs, but professional asûs. The latter were scholarly asûs who began to reshape and more sharply define their scholarly identity by making their knowledge and offices secret and inaccessible to others, developing a strong mythological framework, and claiming divine and royal patronage. Even though the healing practices of asûs were rooted in and founded on the pre-hegemonic world, the secretive, distant authority that professional asûs claimed to have in the textual and iconographical materials produced by them and their fellow scholars could only exist in a hegemonic and theistic framework. The emergence of professional asûs is very well illustrated in the career of Rabâ-ša-Marduk. He developed from a public, urban asû working for the city of Nippur to an asû who worked in Babylon, presumably for the king, after which he was recognized by the king as an asû worthy enough to serve royal courts.210 His scholarly training is evidenced in the fact that he set up a scribal house that produced medical texts, and that he became an ancestor of a prestigious lineage in the early 1st millennium b.c.e. Babylonia demonstrates that he enjoyed a distinguished reputation.211 That he may have drawn on divine patronage from Gula may be manifested by a potential votive inscription by him to Gula.212 There will not have been many asûs in the position of professional asû. Asûs could be literate, but to be a professional asû, they needed to be part of a group of elite scholars who adapted to the hegemonic and theistic systems, obtained the acknowledgement of the king and ruling elite, were given access to the scholarly secrets, and were able to claim extraordinary knowledge and pow-
209
210 211 212
Nutton 2013: 260–262. See also Early Modern city physicians in the Netherlands, who did not all move in university circles; only a few of them became medical professors and/or royal physicians, see Otterspeer 2000: 348–355, 407–409. Devecchi and Sibbing-Plantholt 2020. See also Heeßel 2009. Devecchi and Sibbing-Plantholt 2020. im 49104. Photograph published by Edzard 1959: plate i; edition by Bartelmus 2017: 312; see further Devecchi and Sibbing-Plantholt 2020: 320. See also paragraphs 3.2.4.1. and 6.3.4.
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ers by virtue of patronage of divine and mythological sages. And even within this group of scholars, there was competition to get into what Parpola called the “inner circle”, i.e. those who engaged with the king on a regular basis and held prominent positions; those in the “outer circle” were scholars with less contact with the king and who complained about not obtaining royal favors, recognition and attention.213 Because asû was a “borderland” occupation, which on the one hand belonged to the group of scholars who were responsible for the production of a scholarly medical corpus, but on the other hand was rooted in folk, domestic tradition, the professional asûs needed a sharper contrast between their knowledge and that of their non-scholarly and non-professional colleagues. The new scholarly climate allowed for the professional asûs to portray themselves as the human counterparts of a specific divine healer who would grant them the ultimate authority. The 3rd and final part of this book will analyse how the professional asûs legitimized themselves in the diverse medical marketplace, in particular through the ultimate healer, Gula. 213
Parpola 1983: xv–xvii; 1993: xxv.
part 3 Legitimacy in the Medical Marketplace: Divine and Human Professional asûs
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Legitimization as a Response to Competition and the Demands of Clientele 7.1
Medical Competition and the Need for Legitimization
As established in Part 2, depending on their socio-economic status, means, and geographical location, patients in ancient Mesopotamia had an opportunity to visit different kinds of healers. It has also been demonstrated that for the same type of illness, various healing options were available: for instance, in the case of a snake bite, one could try to heal it without any specific healer, or seek out either a mušlaḫḫu or an asû. Whether a healer was preferred, and if so, which one, may have depended on the illness, the accessibility and the fees of the healer, and/or the patient’s personal preferences and beliefs. Healers could try to influence the preferences and beliefs of patients in order to attract clientele and establish or strengthen their position in the medical marketplace. They could exhibit their authority through legitimizing processes, which can be recognized in all sectors of the health care system. In Chapter 5 it has been demonstrated that cross-culturally, healers in the lay sector as well as many healers in the folk sector (who are often women), are deemed a safe choice for the patient due to the latter being accessible, approachable, and familiar because of a shared community and vernacular. Because lay and folk healers are usually deeply rooted in local tradition and communities, they are dependent on these local communities to provide them respect, credibility, and clientele. The reputation of these healers is consequently very important, as a bad reputation can lead to social condemnation, excommunication, and even death. In the words of an Indian folk healer, a snake specialist: If a doctor fails to rescue the patient, nothing happens to him, he still has a job. But if a patient dies under my hands, I would rather die myself! My lineage would lose credibility, my profession would stop being respected, and possibly the villagers would come and beat me to death.1
1 Quote by an informant who participated in the study of Lorea (2018: 265) on the role of snake specialists as local healers in Bengali rural society.
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In some cultures, women are held responsible for the health of their household. To uphold their reputation as family healers, they sometimes portray their home as a safe place where only minor ailments, such as falls and burns from the oven fire, occur. They distribute the message that serious illnesses, such as poisoning and fevers, are caused by external forces in and from the outside world.2 The message that children fall ill because they interacted with forces outside the house, and thus not because of their mother’s carelessness at home, takes away social guilt and accountability of the mothers, and renders them healers who can cure the child in the safety of her home instead.3 Although they face other challenges, professional or scholarly healers also have the problem of keeping up their reputation. They may have less close and less long-lasting relationships with their patients, which are often based mostly on their reputation as exceptional and erudite healers. As established in Chapter 1, medical professionalization hinges on the social acceptance that an occupation is a distinct profession; on a special relationship with the state or the ruling elite; and on social closure through which esoteric knowledge and superhuman powers can be claimed. These processes structure the relationship between the professional or scholarly healers and their patrons and clients, on whom they are dependent, but from whom they also need to remain distant. These healers thus need to find a difficult balance between on the one hand upholding a barrier between themselves and their clients by claiming special, sometimes supernatural traits to keep professional control, and on the other, being accessible to and trusted by clients.4 Such a reputation and even having the most important figures of the city and country as patients are however not a guarantee for actual healing abilities; Galen for instance stated that healers who served the ruling elite became notable through the self-promotion of their own excellence, and that their success depended more on flattery than on medical mastery.5 This distant patient-healer relationship as suggested by cross-cultural evidence was probably also necessary for the Mesopotamian professional healers. They were dependent on their relationship with their clients (of which the
2 Finerman 1987. 3 Finerman 1989: 34; 2014. 4 For the necessity of a barrier between healer and patients in order for the former to remain in control in other time periods, see also Jamous and Peloille 1970; Cock 2017. 5 Nutton 1990: 245, 257. Note that Galen himself was one of those healers who needed to emphasize his own talents and knowledge in order to convey the message that he was a perfect healer (Nutton 1990: 256–257).
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most important and powerful was the king), and also they needed to emphasize their unique authority and legitimacy, which made them less reachable. For instance, their exclusive and extensive services, which could involve rituals that took place over several days, probably were impressive and instilled confidence, yet also were expensive. Based on the Laws of Ur-Namma and the Laws of Hammurabi, which regulated the fees for (perhaps the private endeavours of public) asûs,6 it has been postulated that the fees for these asûs, namely between 2 to 10 shekels of silver, were so high that an ordinary person would not have been able to afford them.7 Also Old Babylonian letter AbB 10 55 shows that asûs could be too expensive, as the author is ill but has nothing with which he could pay an asû for his (or her) services.8 This does not mean that all asûs were unaffordable; most likely only the reputable ones acknowledged by the state through funding and who served the larger urban settings were expensive.9 Asûs not funded by the state and rural and/or wandering asûs who stood outside the socio-economic elite and were rooted more in domestic circles, may have had fees not regulated by lawcodes, and may have been more accessible to the community. It is likely that especially the scholarly, professional asûs struggled to vie with these non-scholarly and non-professional asûs performing similar, cheaper practices in other tiers of the medical marketplace. They therefore may have needed to establish a particularly clear and intentional barrier to maintain their position. In the next paragraphs the discussion will turn to how the rivalry between healers can be recognized in the cuneiform record, which predominantly represents the perspective of professional, scholarly healers, among whom were the professional asûs. As the scholars dominated the written record, they could communicate their ability and the incompetence of their competition. The sources show that they clearly attempted to make themselves attractive by promoting their erudition and medical success, and attacked other healthcare providers as a means to bolster their position.
6 See paragraph 6.3.1. 7 The equivalent of 600 to 3000 litres of barley (Attinger 2008: 3; Geller 2010a: 56–58). See also arm 25 787, see paragraph 6.3.1. 8 See paragraph 6.3.1. 9 See also Geller 2010a: 58–59.
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Promoting Erudition as a Scholarly Response to Medical Competition
7.2.1
Antagonism between the Educated/Competent and the Uneducated/Incompetent The scholarly literature contains glimpses of self-promotion of scholarly, professional healers and their censure of other healers. Scholars regularly emphasized their special abilities through referring to themselves as lēʾû, “skilled, competent one”, and mūdû, “educated, knowledgeable one; expert”,10 whereas they used antonyms to derogatively describe other healers, such as lā mūdû “uneducated one; non-expert”, nuʾû, “stupid, uneducated one”, as well as lā lēʾû, “incompetent one”, and mimma ul/lā īde, “one who knows nothing”.11 This antagonism is the result of the scholars’ attempt to distinguish themselves from individuals outside the scholarly circle, but also colleagues within their own circles, whose work they openly criticized. This is demonstrated in the secrecy colophons found on medical tablets, where secret knowledge is ascribed to the scholars who called themselves mūdû, stating that they could only share their knowledge with another mūdû, and not anyone who is lā mūdû.12 An example of scholars trying to abase a non-scholarly healer can be found the Silbenvokabular A from Ugarit, in which the raqqû(ruqqû)/muraqqiu is excluded from the scholarly circles and portrayed as an ignorant fool without a proper scholarly education: (pa-pa =) ru-qu-u ša i₃-dug₃-ga i-du-u nu-ʾ-u₂ ša mim-ma u₂-ul i-de₄ (pa-pa =) ruqqû, who knows perfumed oils, stupid one, who knows nothing.13
10
11 12 13
See also cad m/2: 166; for a critical discussion of the common translation “initiated” for mūdû, see Lenzi 2008a: 168–169 n. 157. Mūdû is otherwise used to describe gods and kings; Rochberg 2016: 62. For leʾû, see Veenhof 1986; see also Rochberg 2016: 62–63, and paragraph 6.3.4. See paragraph 5.3.1; see also Mayer 2013: 249–251. See paragraph 5.3.1. rs 29.103 iv 6; Nougayrol 1969: 84; cad r: 420. See Cavigneaux and Jaques (2010) for this distinction in this text between the scholars, who allegedly stood under protection of the divine, and the ignoramus; they also discuss the role of this text in the creation of a scholarly identity.
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Although the raqqûs (as well as the muraqqītus) were not part of the scholarly circle, they as specialists in aromatic (medicinal) plants possessed a vast amount of healing knowledge that was valuable even to the king, and therefore also could have a respectable status in the royal entourage.14 Labeling raqqûs as stupid and uneducated healers who stood in contrast to the highly educated scholarly experts is an expression of a scholarly doctrine. In the Silbenvokabular A from Emar, the knowledge of the scholarly, professional asû is emphasized as mūdî mê, “the knowledgeable expert of water”.15 For the professional asûs, distancing themselves from this occupation was particularly important, as their line of work was closely associated with raqqûs and the latter could even bear the title asû; moreover, the raqqûs also served at the court and may have competed for royal recognition. The term mūdû, especially in combination with ummânu, was also used to distinguish a truly competent scholar from an incompetent one, who could be called ummânu lā ḫassu, “unwise scholar”, and who could be denied access to secret scholarly works: um-me-a la ḫa-a[s-su … ] ša₂ kin ne₂-me-qi₂ geštu ni-kil-ti nu zu nu ig[i] The unw[ise] scholar [ … ] who does not know a work of wisdom and intelligence, shall not see!16 The decision regarding who was competent enough and who was not must have been an internal debate between scholars, which was heavily influenced by the king’s favor. This competition among learned scholars can be recognized in the Neo-Assyrian letters, which according to Parpola (1983: xviii) are permeated by expressions of “arrogance, contempt and hatred towards colleagues and other persons felt like a potential threat to one’s own position”. The scholars competed for the king’s acknowledgement, rewards, and recognition of their skills in comparison to others. This is illustrated well in letters by āšipu Adadšuma-uṣur and his son Urdu-Gula, “the forlorn scholar” who wrote to the king about how they were distressed about having lost royal support, receiving fewer gifts than they deserved, and being excluded from the king’s entourage.17 The fear of the scholars to be neglected by the king even when they were intelligent
14 15 16 17
See paragraph 5.2.1. See paragraph 6.1. K 2596 rev. i 27′ (cad n/2: 220; Lenzi 2008a: 206). See for instance saa 10 226, 289 and 294; Parpola 1983: xviii; Van Buylaere 2020: 211–212.
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and wise (emqu, ḫassu) is also reflected in a proverb, which concludes that the need for them ultimately will become apparent.18 In their competition, scholars went as far as accusing each other of contemptible stupidity and deceit. The scholar Nabû-aḫḫē-erība called his colleague who issued a report about the presumed visibility of Venus “a despicable and ignorant man, a fraud”.19 Such statements reflect how scholars felt threatened by (ignorant) competition, but also on how they manoeuvred themselves into a position of power. They warned their patron, the king, that employing their incapable competitors came with substantial risks for the stability of his reign. The Neo-Assyrian royal ummânu Issār-šumu-ēreš wrote as follows to the king: [la] mu-de-e šip-ri [da]-⸢a-a!⸣-nu u₂-ša₂-an-na-aḫ la mu-de-e a-ma-ti u₂-ša₂-an-za-qa dan-nu An [un]educated one gives a hard time to [a ju]dge, an uneducated one can make the powerful distressed.20 Since this passage stresses that the mūdûs served the king and the lā mūdûs were a challenge to the powerful, the latter could also be interpreted as those who did not act in favor of the king. They were thus portrayed as ones who, instead of keeping the king and country in good health like the competent scholars did, posed a threat to peace and order.21 In this way, scholars communicated that they were dependable and loyal, but also that the king had no other choice but to trust in them.22
18 19 20 21
22
Lambert 1960: 241 ii 50–63; Lenzi 2008a: 72–74. For the association between emqu and mudû, see Enūma eliš 7 146 (Lambert 2013: 132–133). [lu₂] qal-lu-lu lu₂ sa-ku-ku [l]u₂! par-ri-su, saa 10 72 obv. 9–10; Mayer 2013: 251. saa 10 23 rev. 3–6. This is reminiscent of how the Middle-Babylonian scribe Marduk-nādin-aḫḫē living at Aššur used the term lillu, “fool”, to describe his Babylonian family members who had betrayed the Assyrian (i.e. in his eyes, the legitimate) king, and whom he would not allow to be part of his scribal house and legacy. These treacherous lillus stood in opposition to the wise, humble, and obedient Marduk-nādin-aḫḫē, who had been loyal to the Assyrian king (Wiggermann 2008: 211–212). The composition “Advice to A Prince” (dt 1: 4–5 [Lambert 1960: 112–113] // oip 114 128: 4–5), a list of royal misdeeds and their consequences, contains a similar message, namely that if a king does not listen to his scholarly advisors (called both apkallus and ummânus), his days will be short and the land will rebel against him (for the emended reading apkallu instead of rubû in line 4 and the interpretation of this passage as evidence for a clear
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As those responsible for the health of the king, his family, and his subjects, the professional asûs sent out this very message, and used labels like lā mūdû and lā lēʾû to challenge their colleague’s healing abilities. For instance, professional asû Urdu-Nanaya exclaims in a letter to the king that the ones who had taken care of a patient with a bloody nose acted ignorantly (ina la mu-da-nu-te) as they wrongly applied tampons and therefore were not able to stop the bleeding; he asks if he can come to the palace to give instructions.23 This showcase of knowledge comes after another boastful passage, in which he states that he healed the crown prince, who after a successful medical treatment could sit up again and was doing very well. At the end of the letter, he asks the king about his health, after he demonstrated that he, as opposed to others, is able to cure and possesses vast knowledge of healing. This contradistinction served to establish medical authority and gain the king’s trust in handling his own health. 7.2.2 “The Incompetent Other” in Medical Satire Similar rhetoric, with a strong focus on the competency of the properly trained scholarly, professional healers, in particular asûs and āšipus, is found in medical satire. All throughout history up to this day, medical experts have been subject to critique and subsequent ridicule and scorn. Common accusations are that they are greedy, unethical, and incapable, and that their medical negligence and incompetence could lead to a worse state of health—and even death.24 In 17th century England, physicians had bad reputations as money-grubbers who used both unintelligible jargon and Latin or Greek in order to cover up their lack of knowledge. They were perceived as dangerous since their incomprehensible treatments could make people ill or even kill the sick; physicians were indeed associated with death.25 From this critique can also be deduced what people perceived as the traits of a good healer: they were expected to be able to make a correct prognosis and diagnosis, apply the right treatment, and be hon-
23 24
25
parallel between apkallus and ummânus as royal advisors, see Lenzi 2008a: 114–115; 2008b: 147–149). saa 10 322 rev. 7–17, Mayer 2013: 250–251. See further saa 10 273 rev. 16. See for instance Dörnemann 2003: 103, 129, 291; Nutton 2019 (in particular page 136, where he describes an account by Galen of a physician who prescribed an unsuccessful treatment, and consequently became a laughing stock with a nickname deriving from a medical failure, and was excommunicated). Porter 1994; Sumich 2013: 20–21. For a humorous critique of physicians, see for instance William Hogarth’s satirical portrayal of the medical profession in “The Company of Undertakers” (1737c.e.; bm 1868,0822.1542), which implies that treatment by a physician (and the quack he really was no different from) ultimately led to the involvement of an undertaker.
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est, caring, and intelligent.26 The patients’ negative sentiments was reflected in medical satire, which served as a way to deflate and avenge the costly, paininflicting medical experts.27 One could imagine that Mesopotamian patients felt similar about their professional healers, and it has been suggested that a critique on Mesopotamian healers is reflected in medical satire such as the Aluzinnu-text.28 In this composition, āšipus would be portrayed as worthless harmdoers.29 However, medical satire can also be a product of tension between healers and can be used to critique other healers.30 Therefore, humorous compositions could have been used by certain healers (which in case of ancient Mesopotamia would be those who wrote the compositions, i.e. the scholarly healers) to create division and mock their rivals, whom the scholarly healers did not deem competent and whose healing arts they condemned. Based on the Sitz im Leben of the few pieces of Mesopotamian medical satire it can be concluded that they indeed served as propaganda of professional healers and as negative advertising directed at competing healers as a response to competition in a plural medical marketplace. The aforementioned “Aluzinnu-text” is the most important example of medical satire. It is named after the occupation aluzinnu, of which the meaning is not fully clear. Aluzinnus seem to have played a role in cultic practice, but clearly were a type of entertainer. The latter can be assumed as a loose translation for this occupation.31 The Aluzinnu-text consists of various sections that are not directly related, but which seem to have been humorous to a highly educated audience, perhaps the royal court, for whom the aluzinnu may have performed this as a piece of entertainment.32 The sections include a parody
26 27 28
29 30 31
32
Compare Nutton 1990: 248, who also mentions the judgment of theoretical practice, which required a degree of education on the part of the patient to be able to scrutinize a healer. Porter 1994. K 4334 (2 R 60, 1) and duplicates; Ebeling 1931: 9–19; for newer edition, see Römer 1975– 1978; for a recent translation, see Foster 2005: 939–941. See also Foster 1974; Gesche 2001 passim; Milano 2004; Veldhuis 2006: 495–496; Rumor 2016; 2017. Foster 1974: 79; Milano 2004: 249–250; Veldhuis 2006: 495; Frahm 2008: 464; Worthington 2010: 31–32; Geller 2007a: 10; 2010a: 54. E.g. Sumich 2013; Gallagher 2013. For a detailed discussion of the occurrences and meaning of the term aluzinnu see Meissner 1940: 4–6; Foster 1974: 74; Gelb 1975: 61–63; Römer 1975–1978: 43–53; D’Agostino 2000: 26–39; Stol 2003: 642; Ziegler 2007: 277–278; Shehata 2009: 52–54; Rumor 2017. Von Soden 1934: 415; Gelb 1975: 61–63; Römer 1975–1978: 54; Milano 2004: 245; Shehata 2009: 52–54; Rumor 2016: 589–591; 2017: 199. For aluzinnus working for the king, see AbB 8 109: 4–13; Shehata 2009: 53.
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of omina and menological, gastronomical, and medical literature,33 and a ludicrous account of the travels of a king of Dilmun,34 as well as a strange, unparallelled god list. The latter pairs up deities with unexpected cult centers, such as Inšušinak with Ekallāte, and therefore has the appearance of a parody.35 The Aluzinnu-text also consists of a satire involving several occupations in the form of dialogues, perhaps between the aluzinnu and his audience. The aluzinnu is asked what he is able to do (aluzin mīnâ teleʾʾi?), and he responds by boldly claiming that he is an expert in several disciplines, including that of kalûtu and the āšipūtu. The passage concerning āšipūtu goes as follows: a-lu-zi-in mi-na-a te-le-ʾi-i a-ši-pu-ta ka-la-ma a-na šuii-ia-ma ul uṣ-ṣi a-luzi-in ki-i a-ši-pu-ut-ka um-ma e₂-maškim u₂-kal a-gub-ba-a du-an maš₂ḫul-dub₂-bi-e a-rak-kas₃ pa-ra-a a-kaṣ-ma še-in-nu u₂-ma-al-la ṣip-pa-ta a-rak-kas-ma i-ša₂-ta a-qad-ma ana ša₃ a-nam-di-ma i-ta-at e₂ u₃ sa-ḫi-rati-šu₂ e-zib maškim ša₂ e₂ ša₂-a-šu₂ muš u₃ gir₂-tab-ma ul in-ne₂-zib Aluzinnu, what are you able to do? Of āšipūtu, nothing is beyond me! Aluzinnu, how do you perform āšipūtu? Here is how: I take over a house possessed by a demon and I set up the holy water. I tie up a scapegoat, I skin a mule, and fill it with straw. I tie reeds together and I light it on fire, and throw it inside. I spare (only) the sides of the house and its surroundings. The demon that is in that house, nor the serpent or the scorpion, will be spared!36 As demonstrated in the previous paragraph, leʾû means “to know the art of/to be able, an expert in” something, and was used in the context of medical training. However, in this passage, the aluzinnu is obviously not able at all. In his attempts to ward off any evildoers and restore order and health he decides to burn down the house, which does indeed get rid of the evil and illness it brings—but also leaves the afflicted worse off than before. 33
34 35 36
Foster 1974: 77–79; Römer 1975–1978: 63–67; Milano 2004; Veldhuis 2006: 495–496. For the humorous use of medical terms throughout the text, see Rumor 2016: 592–598; 2017: 199– 203. Foster 1974: 76–77; Römer 1975–1978: 59–60. Von Soden 1934: 415; Foster 1974: 75; Römer 1975–1978: 54. K 9287 ii 7–15, Boissier 1901: 159–160 (photo published on the cdli website, https://cdli .ucla.edu/dl/photo/P398016.jpg visited on 1 July 2017); for the edition, see Foster 1974: 77; Römer 1975–1978: 61–62. See fragmentary parallels of this passage in 2 R 60 v 18′–22′ and ctn 4 204 rev. 1–5.
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As mentioned before, this passage has often been interpreted as a mockery of āšipus, which implies that the aluzinnu poses as an āšipu, whose nonsense treatments and quasi-erudite mumbo-jumbo only led to disaster and chaos. However, the aluzinnu is never called āšipu: he merely overconfidently claims that he is an expert in āšipūtu, the lore of the āšipus. The aluzinnu often is interpreted to be a buffoon in the sense of a jester,37 however he did not only mock third parties, but also exposed himself to ridicule, and thus enacted an incompetent fool who, contrary to his claims, lacks understanding; a boaster or a fraud. The latter meaning is supported by the Greek counterpart of the aluzinnu, the alazon (ἀλαζών).38 In Greek literature and comedy this term can describe a con artist, one who makes a mockery out of something and unrightfully boasts about having certain qualities and skills, including those of a physician.39 In the Aluzinnu-text, the aluzinnu’s assertion that he is an expert in the lore of the āšipu does not mock the āšipu and his respected profession, but rather the aluzinnu, the (one playing a) non-expert who thinks he can perform āšipūtu.40 This claim is an intrusion of the scholarly world. As demonstrated, keeping imposters at bay was a pressing concern of the scholars, who kept their circle closed and knowledge secret in order to receive social and royal recognition. That the Aluzinnu-text is written from this perspective is confirmed by the fact that the text clearly stems from a scholarly milieu. It may represent a performed piece of entertainment, but it certainly was a scholarly schooltext. Five excerpts of the Aluzinnu-text are found on late 1st millennium b.c.e. type 2a school exercise tablets, which also contain short extracts of Enuma Eliš and Marduk’s Address to the Demons, as well as lexical lists, mainly Urra=ḫubullu.41 These type 2a exercises are practices in literary, religious, and lexical texts as part of the more advanced stage of scribal training and served to familiarize the student, the scholar in training, with the Babylonian theological and political ideology and scholarly lore, in particular āšipūtu.42 Although it is difficult
37 38 39
40 41 42
Meissner 1940: 4–6; Foster 1974: 74, 79; Gelb 1975: 61–62; Jean 2006: 40–41. West 1994: 2 n. 8; Griffith and Marks 2011; Rumor 2016: 590; 2017: 203. Griffith and Marks 2011; Rumor 2016: 290–294; 2017: 202–203. In Nicomachean Ethics 4.7.13, Artistotle refers to the alazon as one who boasts for the sake of reputation; Aristotle also emphasizes here that medicine is among the commonest fields of pretence and bragging (Griffith and Marks 2011: 24; Rumor 2016: 593). For frauds and “quacksalvers” posing as āšipu and asû, see also Geller 2007a: 9–11; 2010a: 53–54. See also Griffith and Marks 2011: 30, who note that in the āšipūtu-passage, the aluzinnu as an incompetent boaster resembles the alazon. Gesche 2001: 126, 175, 178, 180, 182, 254–255, 396–398, 423–424, 704, 709, 813 (bm 36417, 54509, 54609, 55060, 55305); George and Taniguchi 2019: nos. 90 and 205. Gesche 2001: 49–52, 172–198; Veldhuis 2003; George 2003–2004: 403–404.
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to determine the significance of the Aluzinnu-text in the scribal school curriculum,43 it clearly was part of the training of the more experienced scholarly student, and as stated earlier, the contents, such as the curious god list, would only have been understood by a highly educated audience. The intended audience of the Aluzinnu-text thus seems to have been the scholars in training who had to learn how to deride their competition. If it indeed was performed by an aluzinnu, the play may also have reached an audience to whom scholars would like to transfer this legitimizing message: the elite and court members. The Aluzinnu-text thus reveals how scholars protected their profession and disarmed their threatening competitors, namely by portraying them as non-experts or frauds who could only fail at their attempt to access āšipūtu— knowledge that was too big for them. Another passage of the Aluzinnu-text may specifically be directed against a famous opponent of the male professional, scholarly healers: the woman healer. In a satirical monologue by a woman, perhaps enacted by the aluzinnu, the woman describes her appearance through the likeness of animals, such as “my limbs are like an elephant’s, my face is a hyena’s!”,44 but claims that she enchants men. The last legible line of this section is preserved on two manuscripts in two fragmentary lines, namely u₂-meš ša₂ a-na ⸢x⸣-[ ] and […] ⸢x x⸣-ia ag-da-mar.45 If these lines are indeed part of the same sentence, the line reads u₂-meš ša₂ a-na ⸢x⸣-[ ] ⸢x x⸣-ia ag-da-mar, “(all) the plants that […] I used up”.46 The woman’s statement that she used up all (medicinal) plants or drugs could be a reference to her involvement with healing and her inability to heal or maintain her medical cabinet; and thus may reflect this tension between the male professional healers and women healers. The message of “the other” being the non-expert, even when they also obtained a scholarly education, is also communicated in “Why Do You Cuss Me?”, also referred to as “The Tale of the Illiterate Doctor”, and “Ninurtapāqidāt’s Dog Bite”.47 The story begins with a healing of a dogbite performed by Amēl-Bau, a šangû-priest of the Gula temple in Isin, after which the healed patient invites Amēl-Bau to come to Nippur to receive a payment in the form 43 44 45 46 47
Gesche 2001: 178. mi-na-a-ti ana pe-e-ri pa-ni ana bu-ṣi maš-la-ku, 2 R 60 ii 19 // ctn 4 204 obv. 20′; see Römer 1975–1978: 55 (line 15); Foster 1974: 75 (line 19). 2 R 60 ii 27 and K 9886 i′ 7′ respectively, see Weidner 1952–1953b: 311; Römer 1975–1978: 56. Weidner 1952–1953b: 311; Römer 1975–1978: 56; see also Foster 2005: 940. Compare Rumor (2017: 200), who reads u₂-meš as “pastures”. Cavigneaux 1979: 111–117; Reiner 1986; George 1993b; Foster 2005: 937–938; Frahm 2008: 463; Streck 2015. The composition is dated to the 1st millennium b.c.e. but may go back to the late 2nd millennium b.c.e.; see also paragraphs 3.3.1.1 and 6.3.6.
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of a honorary meal. Amēl-Bau makes his way to Nippur, but everyone there answers in Sumerian, which he does not understand and as a result he thinks he is insulted. Amēl-Bau, whose respected position is emphasized and who based on his merit must be knowledgeable, turns out not to know Sumerian, the language in which priests and scholarly trained experts were normally well-versed. This indicates a polemic between the cities of Isin and Nippur, with Isin as the relatively new center for healing expertise, whereas Nippur had been the center of education and the preservation of knowledge (and where even the street vendors spoke the language of the learned) since the 3rd millennium b.c.e. Amēl-Bau, who may have carried the title asû,48 was not mocked because of his healing knowledge: after all, he succeeded in healing his patient. He also was not deemed morally unsound or greedy, as he does not ask for a disproportionate fee: the patient offers him a payment in the form of a dinner, which he accepts. This seemingly unusual payment could of course be a way for the patient to avoid the fee,49 but more importantly, this plot development serves to situate this healer from Isin in the city of Nippur, as otherwise there is no story. And it is exactly this polarization between Isin and Nippur that is the pun of the joke.50 To fully understand it, one must consider the audience of this text: the school boys. It is after all a school text, as the colophon of “Why Do You Cuss Me?” states that it is “written down to be recited by apprentice scribes”.51 Secondly, the story and the Sumerian answers of the Nippurian inhabitants are not funny or understandable unless one has undergone a scholarly education.52 And lastly, the text itself is a stage for the schoolboys, as they close the tale by chasing away the not properly educated scholar.53 The Nippurian schoolboys would have found this text funny not only because it is unexpected that a šangû-priest of Gula did not understand day-to-day Sumerian; but also because the story makes fun of the “other”, the scholar trained in Isin, who did not get a proper Sumerian training according to the respected Nippurian tradition, and therefore was not fully an expert.54 It thus expresses tension between scholars
48 49 50 51
52 53
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George 1993b: 72, see paragraph 6.3.6. See also Worthington 2010: 29. George 1993b: 71–72; Streck 2015: 23. [a-na] ši-tas-si-i lu₂šab-tur-meš sar, line 35; George 1993b: 67. See also George 2003–2004: 404. For this composition being academic product, see also D’Agostino 2014: 69–70; Streck 2015: 23. George 1993b. d[umu-meš m]u-um-me lip-ḫu-ru-ma ina im-šu₂-kam-šu₂-nu abul-maḫ li-še-ṣu-[šu₂], “the students should form a mob and drive him out of Grand Gate with their practice buns!”, line 34 (George 1993b: 67, 70–71). Streck 2015: 23. See also Reiner 1995: 44, who stated that the story also makes fun of the city
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themselves, in this case those from Nippur versus those from Isin; such rivalries between scholars and schools in different cities are also attested in other texts.55 The last example of medical satire that should be addressed is The Poor Man of Nippur, in which a man named Gimil-Ninurta has been wronged by the mayor.56 He is determined to inflict vengeance, and his plan is to trick and beat the mayor three times. After he has succeded at this once, Gimil-Ninurta plans to beat the mayor again, and in order to get access to him he poses as an asû. He shaves his head, perhaps carries a medical instrument,57 and claims to be an asû from Isin. He is invited in and manages to gain the trust and respect of the mayor by pointing out exactly where the the mayor’s injuries are—which, as the audience knows, is because he inflicted them himself. As mentioned in paragraph 6.3.4, the mayor proclaims to his attendants “asû lēʾûma”, “(he is) a skilled asû indeed!”. The “ignorant other” in this text is not the competing healer in the medical marketplace, but the client, who is easily fooled and misidentifies his attacker for an able asû. This piece further stands out from the other two pieces of medical satire because it may be part of common folklore and not strictly a product of the scholarly community. This could be deduced from the fact that the framework is similar to other folktales in the Mediterranean world such as “The Tale of the First Larrikin” from a Thousand and One Nights, and that the content is graspable for the general public.58 7.2.3 Exclusive Knowledge of Exotic and Rare Healing Products Professional asûs were specialists in pharmaceutical healing; however, they did not have a monopoly on this knowledge. Natural products were accessible to everyone, and lay and folk healers may even have been more well-versed in healing with them through the passing-on of longstanding indigenous, traditional experience and knowledge. Based on cross-cultural evidence, lay healers may even have had a more extensive knowledge about herbal remedies than professional healers because they exchanged experiences among themselves, since their knowledge was not rewarded with any specific award or legitimacy.
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Isin itself, although she assumes that the main objective of the tale is to mock the medical profession. Finkel 2000: 141, 189 (text 33). Gurney 1956; 1972; DeJong Ellis 1974; Cooper 1975; Reiner 1986: 2–3; Leichty 1977: 144–145; Oppenheim 1977: 274–275; Foster 2005: 931–936; Frahm 2008: 463; Dietrich 2009. Stol (1997: 409) has suggested that the nakmû that he fills in line 117 is an instrument for cauterization; see also paragraph 8.3.3. Gurney 1956: 148–149; 1972; Reiner 1986: 2; 1995: 43; Foster 2005: 931; Dietrich 2009: 337– 338.
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The need to keep knowledge secret prevents it from developing and expanding. Therefore, professional healers may not have been sought out until a (herbal) remedy created by lay healers did not have the desired effect.59 A way for professional asûs to distinguish themselves from lay and folk healers (including asûs) was to focus on plants that were not easily accessible by local lay and folk healers with fewer resources. In the Greco-Roman period, an expensive or difficult-to-obtain drug meant a good drug to the elite, and therefore professional healers tried to impress their elite clients through showcasing their knowledge of exotic drugs and including as many rare, difficult-to-obtain, and foreign ingredients in their recipes as possible; writing the recipes in poetic form increased their authority even more.60 Evidence for such practices may be found in Mesopotamia as well, for instance, in the Neo-Assyrian letter saa 10 316, in which the royal asû Urdu-Nanaya reports on two herbs he sent along, one of which is important and very rare, and therefore valuable and precious.61 Also in the Kassite letter pbs 1/2 72, in which Bēlu-muballiṭ asks for a long list of herbs from his superior,62 a rare plant may be requested, namely nuḫurtu. This plant is regularly mentioned in scholarly medical texts and incantations, such as in the āšipūtu against witchcraft.63 However, according to the Banquet Stele of Assurnaṣirpal ii, nuḫurtu had to be brought from abroad to be planted in the royal park, and thus was not common or easy to come by.64 Nuḫurtu potentially could be identified as asafoetida,65 and if this is indeed correct,66 this plant may not have been native to Mesopotamia, but may have had to be obtained from the areas currently identified as eastern Iran and Afghanistan.67 Consequently, this could be an example of a plant not accessible to everyone that was commonly used by the scholarly healers to justify their authority.
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61 62 63 64 65 66
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Finerman 1989: 30–39. Nutton 1985: 142; Totelin 2004: 12; 2009: 114–196. Eventually, other healers got around this by offering expired or corrupted products, or by simply leaving out the expensive ingredients (Totelin 2004: 12–13). ša a-ki il-du ša qu-da-a-si ka-bi-di u₂-qur a-dan-niš, “the one (šammu) which looks like the base of an earring is important and very rare”, saa 10 316 rev. 18–19. Geller 2010a: 72; Sibbing Plantholt 2014: 181. Abusch and Schwemer 2016: 513. rima 2 A.0.101.30: 48. Campbell Thompson 1949: 352; see also Abusch and Schwemer 2016: 513. Note that plant identification is complicated in Mesopotamia due to the scarcity of detailed descriptions of plants, and the uncertainty as to which plants were actually part of the ecological system in ancient Mesopotamia. Iranshahy and Iranshahi 2011, based on modern knowledge. It is however possible that the plant grew in ancient Mesopotamia; see also the previous footnote. For medicinal plants in mountainous areas, see paragraphs 4.2.1.2 and 6.3.2, and Reiner 1995: 39–40.
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The Professional asûs’ Solution to Competition: A Divine Image
A solution to competition employed by professional healers that can be found across different time periods and societies is claiming supernatural powers and knowledge based on a special relationship with legendary and divine figures.68 An illustrating example of this can be traced back to early modern England, where university educated physicians rivaled with “unlearned” healers operating in the lay and folk sector.69 An act was created by Henry viii in the early 16th century ordering that only graduates of a university or persons licensed by a bishop could practice medicine. This was however impossible to enforce because lay and folk healers were immensely popular; moreover, the state generally has had little influence on the personal actions and decisions of the people.70 The physicians attempted to convince their patients that they were the best healing option because they were learned and had access to exclusive, erudite knowledge, but this also created a level of distrust in the patient.71 The physicians consequently had to find another, more viable way to set themselves apart from other healers, yet grant himself a special and respectable position, and they did: they posed as the only healers that could provide both physical and spiritual health as those ordained by God.72 They presented themselves as pious devotees who perceived healing as a divine-inspired as well as public duty because God entrusted them with the care of His creation.73 This religious aspect of the healing profession gave authority to the physicians and allowed them to redefine who they were, i.e. healers with divine favor and knowledge who were approved by Christ. Because of the strong connections between pastoral care and healing and the fact that the clergy also had to compete with unofficial lay and folk spiritual practices (such as witchcraft), priests assisted physicians in their efforts. In their sermons, that at that time were, if not read, at least heard by everyone in church, they drew parallels between physicians and Christ, and used medical metaphors to describe sin and the dysfunctional
68 69 70 71
72 73
See also chapter 9. Sumich 2013. See paragraph 1.3.3. For distrust of professional or scholarly healers due to the public, impersonal, authoritative and unsympathetic care they provide in other cultures and periods, see for instance Finerman 1982; 1989; see also paragraph 7.1. Sumich 2013: 6. The identification of Jesus Christ as “physician” and the image of the physician as an instrument of God is already noticeable from the first centuries c.e. For a study on the relationship between medicine and Christianity according to the theology of the early church fathers, see Dörnemann 2003.
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elements of life. This allowed the idealized, divine image of the physicians to become part of the mental landscape of the population.74 Another example of how mythological models can be used to assign professional healers legitimacy can be detected in the biographical dictionaries of physicians drawn up by 12th and 13th century c.e. Muslim biographers.75 The biographers let the Greek healers Galen, Hippocrates and Asclepius exhibit Islamic appropriate behavior; for instance, they refrained from treating royalty in order to avoid moral corruption, and they only charged rich patients. This allowed the Muslim audience to recognize the virtues of the healers and identify with them. It also created the notion that the perfect professional healer was morally sound and pious in accordance with Islamic tradition. The Greek healers also were portrayed as messengers of God who received their knowledge through divine revelation and who as a kind of “prophet-physician” taught humans how to perform medicine.76 There existed a notion of an antediluvian source of medicine in the form of Enoch/Hermes/Idrīs to whom the origin of all scientific knowledge could be traced back, and who handed it down to the Greek forerunners of the Islamic healers. This claim of divine knowledge, as well as the connection with Greek healers, may have allowed Muslim scholars to incorporate Greek medicine into Islamic heritage and to give credibility and authority to their medical knowledge by emphasizing the antediluvian origin of medicine that was handed down to mankind through divine prophecy.77 In a similar fashion, also the Mesopotamian scholars and the professional healers among them communicated that they had a special, elevated status and extraordinary abilities because they were the recipients of divine medical knowledge and the protégées of antediluvian sages and deities.78 In Mesopotamia, the anthropomorphic divine world was malleable by the hands of those who created text and image, which could serve as an ideological instru74 75 76 77 78
Sumich 2013: 49–64. Abbou Hershkovits and Hadromi-Allouche 2013. Abbou Hershkovits and Hadromi-Allouche 2013: 44. Abbou Hershkovits and Hadromi-Allouche 2013. See part 2. This perspective of seeing human healers as mundane counterparts to divine entities is analogous to, for instance, the assertion that Ninurta bore royal properties and the king was an extension of Ninurta’s heroism (e.g. Maul 1999; Annus 2002: 100; Selz 2012), and that Šamaš and Adad shared features with, and served as divine models for, the king (Charpin 2013). The latter also offers an interesting insight into the relationship between authoritative figures and their servants. Charpin (2013: 75–76) states how an ambassador was the servant (wardu) of the king, but when sent on a formal mission, he also was his “body” (pagru). In a similar manner, the king was the servant (wardu) of the gods but also the “flesh of the gods” (šīr ilī) (Charpin 2013: 76. See also Durand 1988: 21; 1990). For human healers being the ṣalmu, “image”, of Marduk and Gula, see Chapter 8.
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ment to different power structures.79 Contact with the gods must also have been possible for lay people, who, in accordance with a non-theistic model, could direct incantations and prayers to the divine without the need of an expert.80 However, only the small circle of scholars controlled the textual and iconographic record and could fashion the divine as well as their own identity in a way that would legitimize their position, and consequently could spread their ideologies through their sources. The idea that one had to go through scholars to contact the divine was a narrative created by these scholars themselves. In case of the professional healers, this meant that a barrier was created between the patient and the divine, and that they could present themselves as the sole negotiators between these two. They posed as the representatives of the divine, and through applying a framework to incantations that made them the only possible performers of healing rituals involving the gods, they sustained this special position. This narrative was mostly suited to the āšipus and bārûs, whose practices and status were fully dependent on the divine and rooted in the theistic and hegemonic spheres. The scholarly, professional asûs however had an ambivalent role as those working in a hegemonic context but being rooted in a domestic environment. They needed to make a greater effort to justify their elevated status, privileges, and knowledge and to be able to claim patronage from the king and the divine. Asûs moved in royal circles from very early on, but they did not enter the circle of scholars until the Middle Babylonian period, when a reformation of the ideological presentation of their occupation became necessary. As a consequence, a divine model was created to legitimize this new position of professional asûs in the form of the healing goddess Gula. Through her, they had the ability to draw divine knowledge and supernatural powers to themselves. Their authority was justified not by the efficacy of their healing practice and rituals: much more authoritative were the divine powers that are behind them, whose ultimate will was ungraspable. Thus, when healing was not successful, it was not their incapability, but the unwillingness of the divine to grant healing. Moreover, comparable to the above-mentioned examples from other societies, professional asûs were able to purposefully shape their divine counterpart to bolster their own identity. They let Gula exhibit properties of other healers in text and image so that these consequently would be recognized by the audience as merits of (only) the professional asûs.
79 80
Van Binsbergen and Wiggermann 1999: 32–33. See also Abusch 2002: 8.
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The following Chapter will discuss the early onsets of legitimization through healing goddesses in the 3rd and early 2nd millennia b.c.e., followed by an analysis of the ways in which the healing goddess Gula was systematically employed as a legitimization model for professional asûs from the Middle Babylonian period on.
chapter 8
The Process of Gula becoming the Divine Legitimization of Professional asûs 8.1
Healing Goddesses and Legitimization before the Middle Babylonian Period
As demonstrated in Part 1, in the 3rd and early 2nd millennia b.c.e., the healing goddesses were superhuman healing agents. Gula, a popular goddess called “the great, old one”, was first called asû and a-zu-gal in the Old Babylonian period but appears to have represented asûtu in the traditional, domestic domain from time immemorial. Ninisina and Bau embodied various forms of healing, both among mankind and among the gods, including asûtu, divination, and motherly healing. Also Nintinuga had an all-round healing character: she could heal anything and apply any treatment, including divination, demoninflicted diseases, and bodily healing such as bandaging and setting broken bones, but was called asû only a few times. They thus were the epitome of divine intervention in the case of illness and death, and they could perform any kind of healing in a way that humans were not able to; reviving the dead, which is what the name Nintinuga stands for, is a healing power that exceeds human healing abilities. In addition, the curse goddess Ninkarrak did not have a clear connection to asûs and is even described in the Laws of Hammurabi as the one obstructing asûs rather than channeling her powers through them.1 The healing goddesses thus were not necessarily portrayed as equivalents of certain healers, but rather as divine agents who had supernatural power over illness and health. Through them, personal devotees could find new hope for healing. An illustration is the Letter-Prayer of Sîn-iddinam to Ninisina, in which Sîn-iddinam asks Ninisina, who is called the divine asû and mother who can bring sick people back to life, to heal him in her divine ways when human motherly healers and asûs and their earthly healing practices could not heal his disease.2 The healing goddesses as supernatural healers thus gave the patients hope: their involvement in healing placed an uncontrollable situation into the hands of an ultimate, superhuman healing agent.
1 See paragraph 4.1. 2 See paragraph 4.2.
© Irene Sibbing-Plantholt, 2022 | doi:10.1163/9789004512412_009
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At the same time, some hints of asûs invoking healing goddesses to promote their healing powers can already be recognized. A few cases of divine devotion of asûs to healing goddesses have been discussed, such as the involvement of asûs in the cult of Ninisina, Nintinuga, and Gula, votive gifts by asûs to Bau, and perhaps an Old Babylonian seal of an a-zu-gal that depicts Gula. Furthermore, the case of Kašapša, an Old Babylonian a-zu-gal from Isin whose name may mean “her (i.e. Ninisina’s) silver”,3 may show that individual asûs could have stressed their worth for the healing goddesses and claimed special powers granted by them because of their devotion to the goddesses. But the systematic legitimization program employed by a group of scholarly, professional asûs to dominate the medical marketplace cannot yet be recognized during this period. This is not in the least because these professional asûs who influenced the scholarly curriculum had not become visible and definable yet; the circumstances for a clearly defined group of scholarly asûs to claim initiation in the scholarly circles and having access to a secret body of knowledge, as well as an exclusive patron-client-relationship with a goddess, had not yet arisen. The role of asûs in the scholarly community was underdeveloped at this time and there was no clear distinction between professional asûs and the male and female domestic, uneducated, folk asûs. Moreover, asûtu was predominantly oral and not yet a clear, coherent scholarly branch or written corpus. Therefore no specific group of professional asûs had laid claim on any specific goddess yet, and any asû or even any healer, also domestic motherly healers and raqqûs, could have invoked these different healing goddesses. Indeed, some healing goddesses rather represented domestic healing. Bau was mentioned in scholarly texts and royal hymns, in which she was presented as omnipotent healer, but also was called asû in (female) personal names throughout Mesopotamian history. She seems to have represented in personal cult asûtu performed by women in domestic spheres; the one reference of a caregiver or healer “of Bau” is in fact a ša₃-zu, “midwife”, of Bau.4 Also Gula represented healing forms in the traditional, domestic domain, or lay and folk sectors, including midwives and female asûs, and not so much healing in hegemonic frameworks or scholarly works, in which she herself played little to no role until the Middle Babylonian period. Gula was not yet explicitly referred to as a scholar or guardian of a scholarly medical branch or text corpus, and neither were the other healing goddesses. Only Ninisina was referred to once as the “wise asû”,5 and it has 3 Charpin 2014; for this goddess being Ninisina and not Gula, see paragraph 4.2.1.2. 4 Paragraph 4.3. 5 rime 4.2.7.2001: 2. Cf. Edzard 2000: 388. For the object, see also Seidl 1989: 141; Corfù and Oelsner 2018: 131–132. See paragraph 4.2.1.2.
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been suggested that the hymn Ninisina A draws a parallel between Ninisina and human asûs.6 These praises and descriptions of her however rather refer to Ninisina’s divine exaltedness and healing abilities than to boast her reputation as asû specifically in order to give human asûs authority. In Ninisina A (as well as in the hymn Išbi-Erra D) she wears a tug₂ gal, “large garment”, which has been understood by some as a “doctor’s overall”.7 This sounds like an anachronism inspired by the modern white doctor’s coat. It is not unthinkable that (professional) asûs set themselves apart through wearing a specific garment in ceremonial contexts, like āšipus wore a red cloak during certain healing incantation rituals, which served to ward off evil forces.8 However, a garment specific to asûs is neither attested in the textual record—nor identifiable in iconography.9 The tug₂ gal itself is also not mentioned in medical contexts or asûs;10 it was specific to her divinity. Also the sharpening of the knives in Ninisina A may reflect the earthly handling of knives, but the description of these same knives in Iddin-Dagan D as her terrifying claws dripping in blood like that of a lion,11 also makes this an illustration of her divine fierceness.12 Lastly, in Ninisina A, bandaging belongs to nam-a-zu/asûtu, and therefore Böck (2014: 17) states that bandaging turned into the synonym of healing, namely the heal6 7
8
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10 11 12
Abrahami 2003; Böck 2014: 15–21. Römer 2001: 122; Böck 2014: 20; tug₂ gal occurs in Ninisina A (etcsl 4.22.1) line 9 and IšbiErra D (etcsl 2.5.1.4) line 5. See also the tug₂ babbar₂ and the tug₂-ba₁₃ in Ninisina D line 6 (Sjöberg 1982: 64–67; etcsl 4.22.4). Böck 2014: 184. In a description of the preparation and execution of a ritual in a NeoAssyrian letter to the king (saa 10 238 obv. 14–15; on the ritual see Stol 1993: 41) the āšipu puts on a red garment (tug₂ sa₅) and a red cloak (tug₂-dul₃ sa₅, i.e. naḫlaptu), see also Parpola 1983: 162–163. Waetzoldt (1972: 52) stated that red wool and red garments have an important role in incantations, citing bbr 26 i 25, ii 8 and ct 16 28: 68–71. The latter text shows that red is to ward off evil as it instils fear in the demon: tug2gu₂-e₃ sa₅ ni₂-tena-ke₄ gu₄-ga₂ bi₂-in-mu₄: na-aḫ-lap-ta sa-an-ta ša₂ pu-luḫ-ti aḫ-ḫa-lip-ka / tug₂ sa₅ tug₂ ni₂-gal-la-ke₄ bar ku₃-ga bi-in-⸢mu₄⸣: ṣu-ba-ta sa-a-ma ṣu-bat nam-ri-ir-ri zu-mur ku₃ u₂lab-biš-ka; “I donned against you (Sum.: I put around my neck) a red flock, and I dressed (my) pure body against you in a red garment—a garment of awe”, ct 16 28: 68–69 (Parpola 1983: 162; Geller 1985: 138–139; Geller 2015: 298 Udug-ḫul 8 35–36—this translation is followed]; Maul 2018: 183). Gabbay (2018) suggests that the red cloak of the āšipu reproduced the imagery of Marduk/Asalluḫi being clad in terror and splendour. For the tug₂a-zu, which according to the lexical list Diri 5 121 should be read aktum (Akkadian ṣapšu), a common textile in the Ur iii period (not a garment that only occurs in the context of healing), see Waetzoldt 1972: 119, 157; Civil 2008: 97. Note that Owen (2013: 1 425, 2 109) translates tug₂a-zu-du as “ordinary physician’s textile”. For tug₂ gal (never in medical context), see Oppenheim 1948: 93; van Dijk 1960: 66. Iddin-Dagan D lines 6–9, Gurney and Kramer 1976: 19–26; etcsl 2.5.3.4. Ninisina A (etcsl 4.22.1) line 10–11. Böck (2014: 21) interprets the description of her knives entering the flesh like a claw as proof that knives were used to cut skin and clean wounds.
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ing of the asû, whose patron was Ninisina/Gula. However, as demonstrated, nam-a-zu/asûtu at this time meant very generally “the art of healing”, and bandaging was a healing action performed by anyone, even lay healers.13 Neither the nam-a-zu/asûtu and bandaging, nor the use of knives or the wearing of a garment were designated the actions of one particular group of (professional) healers in this hymn, because it was not until the Middle Babylonian period that professional asûs began to, and were able to, claim that bandaging and healing with the use of knives were only their specialization and not that of others. Nevertheless, already in the Old Babylonian period, the first onsets of this can be recognized, such as an increasing interest in asûtu in the scholarly literature as well as an emphasis on the fact that, as mentioned above, the goddesses provided healing knowledge, and could stand for certain healing domains, techniques, and practices. These were popular, domestic traditions that the scholars drew into their body of knowledge rather than reflections of legitimization processes. An example of scribes and scholars attempting to reframe domestic incantations and forms of healing into pieces that fit the theistic framework and the body of scholarly knowledge is well illustrated by lb 1000 and ct 42 32, two Old Babylonian tablets that contain similar incantations mentioning healing domains represented by Ninkarrak and Damu. Both incantations are directed towards a group of diseases representing “all illnesses”,14 and seem to have originated in an oral, domestic tradition in which diseases were attributed to natural phenomena. They list a group of deities who may represent the different kinds of healing options a patient has, including Ninkarrak, who performs bandaging with her soft hands, and Damu, who provides bodily relief and makes suffering pass.15 Both deities have no direct bearing on the Old Babylonian incantations,16 but they may have been invoked as performers of the bodily, hands-on healing required for some of the illnesses.17 Purification (ullulu), the warding off of demons, exorcisms (wašāpu) and cast-
13 14
15
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Sibbing Plantholt 2014: 181. lb 1000 and ct 42 32 (Geller and Wiggermann 2008: 156–159); Böck 2007: 150–158 treats these texts as duplicates to the 1st millennium b.c.e. incantation Muššuʾu 4/a, but Geller and Wiggermann (2008: 159) state that these texts merely show general similarities. ct 42 32: 9 and lb 1000: 4 (Geller and Wiggermann 2008: 153, 156); see also Muššuʾu 4/a lines 6–7 in Böck 2007: 150–151. The complementary healing nature of the two different deities continued into the 1st millennium b.c.e., see paragraph 3.3.1.3. Geller and Wiggermann 2008: 153. lb 1000 obv. 7. These included išātu, “skin lesion”, for which bandaging was a treatment, see Sibbing Plantholt 2014.
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ing of spells is performed by various other deities. The incantation on ct 42 32 is framed by a paratext, which may be an early example of an attempt by scholars to claim oral, traditional knowledge as theirs through the divine: (Opening):
lu-di-kum tu₆ ṭa₃-ri-da-at ka-la mu-ur₂-⸢ṣe-e⸣ ša den-lil₂-ban₃-da iš-ku-nu mu-ši-im ši-ma-tim! Let me recite on your behalf an incantation driving out all illnesses, which Enlilbanda, who decides the fates, has made available (to me).18
(Closing):
ad-di-kum tu₆ ṭa₃-ri-da-at ka-la ⸢mu-ur-ṣe₂⸣ I (hereby) recited on your behalf an incantation driving away all illnesses.19
Enlilbanda, “the Enlil (= the chief-god) of Wisdom”,20 is an epithet of Ea alluding to him being the one who grants wisdom and is the source of all knowledge. This is made clear in the “Admonitions of Šūpē-awīlim to His Son” or Šimâ milka, a wisdom text from the late 2nd millennium b.c.e. that was part of the Ugaritic scribal curriculum, in which is stated in the introduction that the wisdom of Šūpē-awīlim was granted by Enlilbanda.21 In ct 42 32, Enlilbanda passes on his knowledge of healing to the one casting the incantation and treating the illnesses. This paratext thus would have provided a legitimizing framework for scholars to claim an oral tradition as part of a scholarly knowledge set that was bestowed on the scholars by the divine. An indication that Gula, the embodiment of scholarly, professional asûs from the Middle Babylonian period on, could represent a specific type of healing already in the periods before is an Akkadian incantation preserved on cusas 32 25a, in which the following deities are invoked to heal a patient suffering from pain in the abdomen (ša₃ gig-ga):
18 19 20 21
ct 42 32 obv. 1–2 (Geller and Wiggermann 2008: 156–157). ct 42 32 rev. 20–21 (Geller and Wiggermann 2008: 156–157). Banda here does not indicate “junior” but “wisdom”, tašīmtu in Akkadian; for this, see for instance msl 15 114 (Diri 1 286); Dietrich 1991: 39 n. 27; Cohen 2013: 118. rs 22.439 (Ug. 5 no. 163) and duplicates from Ugarit, Emar and Ḫattuša (Dietrich 1991; Márquez Rowe 2008: 100–101; Cohen 2013: 81–128).
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dda-mu be-el ta-ka-la-tim dingir-maḫ be-le-et re-mi-im dgu-la a-su₂-ut a-wi-le-e O Damu, lord of the ‘pouches’; O Dingirmaḫ, lady of the womb; O Gula, female asû of mankind!22 Dingirmaḫ as “mistress of the womb” may represent the ability to heal internal problems and specifically women’s disorders, which was not limited to only midwifery.23 Damu’s title bēl tākalātim, “lord of the ‘pouches’ ”, refers to an internal organ involved with the digestion of food, probably the stomach,24 and Gula may have represented either a specific or a general form of internal healing performed by asûs. A 1st millennium b.c.e. incantation of Damu, Gula (Meme) and Dingirmaḫ25 is directed against intestinal diseases, which gives the impression that the involvement of these three deities in this area remained important. Although they seem to represent different types or domains of healing, these nevertheless overlapped; none of these deities were restricted to one area, and all of them could be called asûs.26 The healing areas mentioned in cusas 32 25a were closely associated with domestic and folk healing; the female asûs, the incantation furthermore contains a motif found in several other incantations, concerning cosmic insemination and the wild animals of Šakkan.27 This is a theme connected to asûs and their ability to heal animals.28 The variety in the incantations that use this same motif, and the uneducated hand with which cusas 32 25a is written,29 point to a possible oral background of this incantation, which may have belonged to a domestic type of healing performed by asûs. The incantations of Damu and Gula that emerged in the Old Babylonian period also reflect
22 23 24 25 26
27 28 29
cusas 32 25a obv. 9–11. See paragraph 5.2.5. Stol 2006: 107–110. For the plural tun₃-meš, see bam 1 ii 47–48 and the references in Stol 2006: 109–110. bam 534 i 3′–12′ // ao 17656 obv. 1–rev. 9; for this incantation, see Böck 2014: 107–109. For Dingirmaḫ as asû, see yos 11 86: 18 (wa-aš-ba-at-ku-⸢um dingir-maḫ⸣ a-su₂-tum, “Dingirmaḫ, the female asû, is waiting for you”); a similar line without asûtum can be found in cusas 32 28a obv. 13. George (2016: 141) assumes that asûtum in yos 11 86: 18 is a mistake for šabšūtum, “midwife”. Cooper 1996; Cavigneaux 1999: 258–270; George 2016: 127–129. See Chapter 6. George 2016: 127.
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the fact that domestic healing was incorporated in the scholarly curriculum. These incantations were probably also rooted in domestic traditions, as they are characterized by their simplicity and lack of erudite formulae, clever word plays, and Sumerian language.30 In this type of incantation, the disease is often described vividly as wild or mythical beasts.31 This is typical for pre-hegemonic, popular magic, which is employed to counter illness as harmful elements of nature that went out of control, instead of restoring cosmic order disrupted by transgressions against the gods.32 One of these incantations, dated to the Late Babylonian period, shows that Gula could be presented as a goddess who let human healers channel her divine healing knowledge. The one who casts this incantation (who, due to the domestic, popular nature of the incantation, does not need to be a scholar, nor is there a reference to asûtu or asûs) utters: Gula iqbīma anāku addi Gula named (the incantation) and I recited it.33 This message was employed, developed, and cultivated by scholars in the Middle Babylonian period, when Gula became conspicuously connected to professional asûs. They presented Gula as the one who provided them with exclusive healing powers and tools and who let only them heal through her, and thus used her as a legitimization model.
8.2
Gula Legitimizing Professional asûs from the Middle Babylonian Period
As discussed in Part 1, Gula established a close relationship to asûs in the Middle Babylonian period, whereas the other goddesses were rarely called asû anymore. An overview of the connections between Gula and asûs has been given in Chapter 3; this section will show that this was done deliberately and served a specific goal, namely that of legitimizing professional asûs. Gula was portrayed not so much as a healing goddess of the people, but as a highly learned goddess who was the divine counterpart of one exclusive group of erudite, professional asûs. 30 31 32 33
Landsberger and Jacobsen 1955: 14; Ritter 1965: 309, 312. Stol 1995: 15–18 and paragraph 3.1.3. Van Binsbergen and Wiggermann 1999: 29–32; see also paragraphs 3.1.3 and 6.1. dgu-la bi₂-in-dug₄-⸢ma⸣ a-na-ku ad₂-di, bm 79125: 9–10 (Finkel 1999: 215–216).
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As concluded in Part 2, the scholars assumed a new discourse in the Middle Babylonian period that created a stronger identity and closer relationship to the divine. The scholarly or professional asûs, who were part of the scholars (ummânus) at this time, self-consciously defined themselves as a coherent group with defined criteria for membership that had an expertise over which it sought primary control. Part of shaping this distinct identity was their divine representation: the goddess Gula. She allowed them to assume special powers or legitimacy and set themselves apart from their rivals. From this period on, Gula was called asû the most by far, in a wide range of different sources. Most of these reflect the perspective of the scholars, who provided a glimpse into their ideology through the texts (and images) they produced.34 The main message of the professional asûs was that they, besides being very capable and learned medical experts who received royal acknowledgement, had obtained divine authority and healing abilities through Gula. A Middle Babylonian source that bore out this message is an inscription on a Kassite seal sold by Sotheby’s London on May 23th 198835 and published by Lambert (1988) that same year. As is not uncommon on Kassite seals, it bears no image, only an inscription, which reads as follows: a-sa-⸢at⸣ dgu-⸢la⸣ še-a-ši i-le-e bu-ul-lu-⸢ṭa⸣ pit pi-ša ṣa-ab-ta na₄kišib d⸢utu⸣-mu-bal-li₂-⸢iṭ⸣ ‘She is an asû—Gula! Seek her! She is able to heal! Grasp her utterance!’ Seal of Šamaš-muballiṭ The inscription is not a hymn in which Gula is praised for her eminence, but rather an inscription that invokes the rhetoric of a wisdom text, which associates the bearer with the wisdom tradition. Several Middle Babylonian seals bear extracts of or references to wisdom literature, often written in the 1st person or as a command.36 Because these seal inscriptions were likely intended to emphasize the wisdom of the seal owner, the words probably belonged to the owner himself, a scholar, who instructed his audience with them.37 More-
34 35 36
37
See for instance the Agum-kakrime inscription, in which the scholars claim to deserve a special royal treatment in return for their secret knowledge and craft, see paragraph 5.3.1. Sotheby’s 1988: no. 115. See for instance Gordon 1939: 31 plate 5: e-še-eʾ as-ḫu-ur ša i₃-li₂-ma a-mi-il il₃-šu ut-tu-šu mim-ma u₂-ul i-ma-aṭ-ṭi-šu, “I have sought (and) followed after divine things. The man whose god finds (chooses) him, lacks nothing!” (Lambert 1975a: 223). Worthington 2009: 70 n. 96 suggests that pīt pîša refers to divination.
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over, the seal is well-cut and is probably a professional seal, of which there are several examples from the Middle Babylonian period.38 This makes it likely that the owner of the seal, Šamaš-muballiṭ, was a scholarly, professional asû. In fact, the wisdom text seems to have been a deliberate statement from a professional asû to identify themselves with a mythological model Gula. Thus, through this wisdom text, professional asû Šamaš-muballiṭ persuaded his audience not just to seek out Gula in her role of asû, but also a physical professional asû. This double message is conveyed by the terminology used. Besides making Gula asû, Gula is said to be able to heal or perhaps more accurately, to know how to heal (ileʾʾe bulluṭa). As discussed in paragraphs Chapter 6 and 7, the verb leʾû was from this time on commonly used to stress the capabilities of the (human) professional asûs, and thus refers to Gula’s role as professional asû. Consequently, by using the official title asû for Gula and qualifying her as a capable, learned asû with terminology normally used for the human professional asû, Gula was clearly rooted in the earthly profession and practice. Gula’s ability was drawn to the professional asûs through the sharing of their office and exclusive healing knowledge and abilities. Consequently, professional asûs not only received their knowledge from Gula, but they were like her; they healed like and through her. Through Gula they effectively portrayed themselves as the ones who could truly comfort the patient, make right prognoses and diagnoses, offer professional and wise council, and use the right medical equipment and treatment. The characteristics of Gula produced in text and image were therefore all subsequently connected with the asû. By giving a deity a mundane title, no one could miss the direct connection between those who performed that office on earth and the deity who performed it in the divine realm. Like the āšipus for Marduk, the professional asûs had become the ṣalmu, “image”, of Gula,39 and performed in her name and were her very words and actions.40 The responses of the listeners and viewers of this scholarly rhetoric are not preserved, and thus it cannot be known whether the message of the scholarly healers was successful and they indeed gained authority. What however can be concluded is that professional asûs felt it was necessary to develop such a discourse communicating their authority. Regardless of whether the scholarly
38
39 40
See for instance the seal of a bārû, the impression of which is found on nine bullae (Matthews 1992: 77–78 no. 29 [pbs 14 541, 564, 565 etc.]). See also Limet 1971: 7.17, a seal of an asû; however, this seal may date to the 1st millennium b.c.e. (see paragraph 6.3.5). šip-tu₄ ši-pat damar-utu a-ši-pu ṣa-lam damar-utu, “the incantation is the incantation of Marduk; the āšipu is Marduk’s image”, Meier 1941–1944: 150 line 226; Lenzi 2010: 147. For this role of the āšipus for Marduk, see also Lenzi 2010; Geller 2010a: 29, 50; 2015: 9; Gabbay 2018: 301–305.
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products were accessible to the masses, they prove that this ideology existed and could have permeated Mesopotamian society in many different ways, for instance through oral tradition, something that in the light of the adage on the seal of Šamaš-muballiṭ would not be far-fetched.41 As mentioned below, professional asûs recited such messages or sayings while treating their patients, comparable to how āšipus reinforced their special relationship with their supernatural parallels Enki/Ea and Asalluḫi/Marduk in the incantations spoken over the patient.42 The divine source of the knowledge used for the actions of asûs and āšipus filled their human speech and actions with a divine power, and the divine involvement legitimized the otherwise powerless words.43 Hearing how their healers received their knowledge directly from divine sources who hold supernatural healing powers may have instilled trust in patients, as well as in bystanders who may have been present at the healing scene, such as family members who assisted the healer.44 These texts are thus examples of a living ideology, as well as vehicles of this ideology. Another example of how scholarly, professional healers could stress the connection between them and Gula was by explicitly stating that Gula performed
41 42
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For the āšipu working together with seal cutters to transfer his legitimizing ideology through seals, see Finkel 1980: 52. In the Udug-Ḫul incantation series, in the so-called Legitimationstyp incantations, Enki and his son Asalluḫi discuss the illness of a patient. A standard element of the dialogue is Enki asking Asalluḫi “What do I know that you do not already know?”, which is asked out loud to gain the trust of the patient, since the latter is identified with the incantation priest (Geller 1985: 15). See also Finkel 1980: 49–52; Lenzi 2010. E.g. Lenzi 2010. Compare how some healers in the Greco-Roman world treated patients while bystanders observed, which allowed them to expand their clientele and build up a reputation (Nutton 2013: 270; see also for instance Lewis 2016). The impression that in ancient Mesopotamia healing was normally performed while others observed is supported by The Poor Man of Nippur. It mentions specifically that the (presumed) asû “took him [i.e. the patient] into a dark room, where his friends and companions would take pity on him” (u₂-še-rib-šu₂-ma i?-na? e₂ a-šar la a-ri a-šar ib-ri u tap-pu-u la i-raš-šu₂-šu₂ re-mu, lines 129–130; Gurney 1956: 156–157), alluding to this being an unusual circumstance. Although family and friends were present at a patient’s bedside, the sick seem to have generally been treated inside and not outside in front of a general public (in contrast to Herodotus’ description, see Chapter 5). For patients being treated in the Inner Parts of the palace, see the asû ša bētānu and the case of Ilī-padâ discussed in paragraph 6.3.3. See further the mention of healing taking place in a dark place (bīt eṭî) where all light is blocked out in amt 88, 2: 1–6; Campbell Thompson 1930: 17; see also Stol 1997: 409; Worthington 2009: 56 n. 43. Geller and Panayotov 2020: 214, 305 see a connection between treatment in a dark room (e₂ ša₂ ta-ra-nam, “a room with a canopy”, bam 480 ii 9 [ugu 1 73]) and the state and symptoms of a patient, i.e. sensitivity to light or migraine (Attia apud Geller and Panayotov 2020: 305).
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the healing through them, for which they accordingly should receive a fee. bam 336, a Middle Assyrian incantation possibly against the evil eye, states: dgu-la li-ba-liṭ […] dumu ap!-kal-li₂ nig₂-ba lim-[ḫur] May Gula heal […] (so that) the expert may rec[eive] a gift!45 Gula is invoked here to do the healing, while the actual medical practices were conducted on the patient in her name and with her help by her earthly substitutes, the scholars (mār apkallī), in particular the professional asûs. The latter received a gift or payment for this divine-inspired healing. It has been suggested that this gift instead refers to votive offerings or donations made to Gula’s cult made after a patient was healed,46 for which, as demonstrated in Chapter 3, there is sufficient proof. However, because the scholars are mentioned here, this rather indicates that these gifts were fees paid to them for their actions, which were only successful with the help of Gula.47 In similar appeals from the 1st millennium b.c.e. the scholars are not explicitly mentioned anymore.48 Perhaps by then, the direct substitution between Gula and professional asûs was simply implied in this saying. The relationship between the human, professional asûs and the divine asû Gula was after all well established in the 1st millennium b.c.e. In the 1st millennium b.c.e., the professional asûs continued to draw a purposeful connection between them and Gula in scholarly works. The references to Gula in colophons of therapeutic texts or asûtu speak for themselves, in particular the phrases that state that the ones who trust in Gula hold medical texts in high esteem, i.e. the scholars, and will receive her support.49 45
46 47 48
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bam 336 obv. 7′–8′; see Zomer 2018: 64 with footnote 217 and paragraph 3.2.4.1. The Ugarit variant with Ninkarrak (as name for Gula?) has mār ummânī (Ug. 5 no. 19 (rs 20.006): 12–13), see paragraph 4.1.4. Böck 2014: 114; Oshima and Van Buylaere 2018: 387–388. Geller 2007c; 2010a: 93–94; Worthington 2009: 61; see also Johnson 2018: 76. E.g. bam 574 ii 51; bam 508 ii 10′ // bam 509: 9′ // bam 577: 5′ // amt 45, 5 obv. 9′ (broken); bam 510 ii 32′ // bam 513 ii 47′ // bam 514 ii 43′ (igi 1 95′, Geller and Panayotov 2020: 83); bam 510 iii 5 // bam 513 iii 10 // bam 514 iii 10′ (igi 1 107′, Geller and Panayotov 2020: 86); bam 533: 47 // bam 543 iii 52′ // SpBTU 1 44: 61 (broken); bam 538 iv 48′ // amt 26, 3: 15′; see also amt 17, 2 1′ (broken, Geller and Panayotov 2020: 204). [nir-gal₂]-zu nu ur ⸢x⸣ [x] dgu-la, “the one who trusts in you will not come to shame, … oh Gula!”, kadp 11 rev. 50–51 (Hunger 1968: no. 246: 10); ⸢x⸣ ⸢x⸣ lu₂(erasure)a-zu tur … [tākil-ki ul ibâš?] dgu-la, Aššur Medical Catalogue colophon lines 127 and 129, written by an apprentice asû (preserved on ybc 7123 rev. 8′, 10′, Steinert 2018a: 179; 2018b: 219, 278); paliḫ dme-me li₆(he₂)-šaₓ(di)-qirₓ(ka), “May a man who respects Gula (Meme) hold (this
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Another clear example is the Gula Hymn of Bulluṭsa-rabi. It generally emphasizes the exaltedness of Gula among the gods, for instance in the Ninkarrak’s section (the Gula section in one witness), which does not refer to healing qualities, but rather to her loftiness and greatness.50 In this composition, Gula commemmorates how Ea gave her divine wisdom and medical knowledge and made these her specialty: de₂-a ina abzu nam-ku₃-zu-šu₂ ig-mu-ra qa-an ṭup-pu ina šuii-šu₂ iš-ru-ka a-su₂-tu₄ pi-riš-tu₄ dingir-meš ana šuii-ia₂ u₂-man-ni Ea endowed me with his wisdom from the Apsû, he gave me the tablet stylus from his hands, he entrusted asûtu, the secrets of the gods, to my hands.51 Lenzi (2008a: 100) has pointed out that the final word of the last sentence, umanni, is homogeneous to ummâni “scholar”, which, in his words, is an intentional “word play that points to the recipients of Gula’s divine endowment of the secret medical corpus: the scholar”.52 As demonstrated in this work, asûtu was neither exclusive to scholars nor necessarily passed down in writing. But in this passage, asûtu is clearly passed down via the stylus (qan ṭuppu), as a divine, secretive, written knowledge that was transfered from Ea to the antediluvian sages, and became the property and responsibility of both Gula and the scholarly, professional asûs whom she represents. As discussed in Part 2, this divine, scholarly asûtu that is well incorporated in the hegemonistic domain and the theistic idiom, is recognizable from the late 2nd millennium b.c.e. on. The Gula Hymn of Bulluṭsa-rabi contains more references to Gula the mistress of written, scholarly asûtu, namely the mentioning of Gula’s cuneiform writing (santakku)53 and the sentence a-nam-din bul-ṭu a-na ba-ʾ-u₂-la-a-tu₂, “I give the healing remedies to mankind”.54 The Aššur Medical Catalogue reveals
50 51 52 53 54
tablet) in esteem”, SpBTU 1 47 rev. 6′ (Frahm 2011: 232–233, 398, 400, 404 (compare also SpBTU 1 51 rev. 20–21: pa-liḫ [dgu-la] li-ša₂-qir, which according to Frahm 2011: 234 should be restored as Gula, and not as Anu as suggested by Hunger). Compare also the colophon of extispicy commentary Ashm. 1924.492; Frahm 2011: 178. See further paragraph 3.3.1.3. Lambert 1967b: 118–121 (lines 54–67). Lambert 1967b: 124–125 lines 144–146; Lenzi 2008a: 98–99. Lenzi 2008a: 97–100. Gula Hymn of Bulluṭsa-Rabi line 184 (Lambert 1967b: 128–129). Gula Hymn of Bulluṭsa-Rabi line 83 (Lambert 1967b: 120–121; see also George and Taniguchi 2019: nos. 57–58).
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that bulṭū, “prescriptions, remedies”, became a term used for the core of the secretive written lore of the professional asûs.55 That this term was typically associated with asûs was already suggested by Ritter (1965: 313–314), who stated that bulṭu was the basic healing prescription of asûs. The first part of the Aššur Medical Catalogue, which was copied by an asû, may have been entitled bulṭī ištu muḫḫi adi ṣupri, “the remedies from the top to the head to the (toe)nails”. This is a phrase also known from Assurbanipal colophon q, where it is referred to as taḫīzu naklu, “artful, complex lore”, and azugallūt Ninurta u Gula, “the art of the azugallu of Ninurta and Gula”, which was also mastered by the king himself.56 This colophon was applied to texts of the Nineveh Medical Compendium that can be linked to the content of the Aššur Medical Catalogue Part 1 and served as reference works for scholars, including professional asûs;57 the latter commonly refer to bulṭū in their letters to Neo-Assyrian kings.58 The medical literature labeled bulṭū was thus designated as scholarly knowledge that could only be accessed by professional asûs with an understanding of such complex material, and otherwise by their patrons: the king, as well as Ninurta and Gula, who were the divine masters and divine counterparts of the professional asûs. The divine patronage of Gula concerning bulṭū is demonstrated also in the epithets of Gula as nādinat bulṭū ana ili u amēli, “the one who gives healing remedies to god and man”, which reminiscent of the Gula Hymn of Bulluṭsarabi.59 Also in 1st millennium b.c.e. iconography, Gula is strongly connected to scholarly medical texts of professional asûs. On several Neo-Assyrian seals, she holds, sometimes together with a knife, a round or cone-shaped object, which represents a clay tablet.60 The identification of this object as a cuneiform tablet
55 56
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Steinert 2018a. Steinert (2018b: 213, 219, 243–244) proposes to read the incipit of the Aššur Medical Catalogue line 58 (ybc 7139 [exemplar E] line 17′) as [nigin₂ x x dub-meš … bul-ti? t]a ugu en ṣu-up-ri, “[Total of 54+ tablets (…) with treatments?] from the top (of the head) to the toenails.” Steinert 2018a: 173, 179; 2018b: 213, 219–220, 243–244; Panayotov 2018: 108–109; Geller 2018a: 49. Panayotov (2018: 108) states that the expression ina bu-ul-ṭi gab-bu “in the entirety of medical prescriptions” (saa 10 326: 3, See also Villard 2006: 149) likely refers to the whole Nineveh Medical Compendium at Nineveh, which was used as a reference work by scholarly healers. See paragraph 8.3.1. lka 17 obv. 13 (Seux 1976: 104). See paragraph 3.3.1.3. For Gula with clay tablet, see Teissier 1984 no. 220 (Watanabe 1999: 333 viib 6.1.4; Collon 2009 [no. 33]) and perhaps also Buchanan 1966: no. 633 (Ashm. 1922.61, Collon 1987: 130 no. 554), as the square object in front of Gula may be a tablet, see Collon 2001: 122; 2009 (no. 28). For Gula with clay tablet and knife, see was 5 238 (Collon 1987: 169 no. 793; 1994: 47
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with medical inscriptions was suggested by Collon (1994: 44), who furthermore stated that the notion of Gula holding medical texts also emerges in the textual record, namely in the sentence na-ša₂-ku maš-ṭa-ru ša₂ ša-la-mu, “I carry around texts of healing” in the Gula Hymn of Bulluṭsa-rabi line 82.61 Böck (2014: 21) seems to have taken this to mean that the identification of the cuneiform tablet hinges on this one line from the Gula Hymn of Bulluṭsa-rabi, and as Stol (2007b: 238) has raised the possibility that this line should be read mas-da-ru ša₂ ša-la-mu, “a masdaru knife for healing”,62 she assumed that this would do away with the reason to assume that Gula would hold a tablet. She has proposed that the object in Gula’s hand rather is a bandage or swab. However, Böck does not take into consideration that such a cone-shaped object has been identified as a clay tablet on Neo-Assyrian cylinder seals in the context of other deities, namely Nabû, the god of writing, who carries his tablet and stylus.63 It is highly unlikely that on the few occasions that it was held by Gula, this cone-shaped object was meant to represent a bandage or swab instead, not to mention that it is questionable that the latter would be depicted with and recognizable by this shape. Moreover, whereas the masdaru knife, a rarely mentioned instrument that is only found on one other occasion with Gula,64 the association between Gula and medical tablets, in particular bulṭū, is clear. Her relationship with medical tablets must further have been evident in Assyria because of the fact that her temple at Aššur housed collections of medical texts. The Gula Hymn of Bulluṭsa-rabi also stresses elsewhere that Gula was not just any asû, but an educated and skilled professional asû. In Gula’s words:
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no. 2; Watanabe 1999: 326 viia 2.1.2; Böck 2014: 22); var 655 (Watanabe 1999: 327 viia 2.1.5); Aššur 161, and perhaps pkg 14 273g (Watanabe 1999: 321; for a discussion of the image on this seal, see paragraph 8.3.3). Collon (2001: 122) further interprets Parker 1975: no. 52 as a depiction of Gula with a knife and tablet (Parker identifies the goddess as Ištar). See also Collon 2001: 122; 2007: 69; 2009. For the passage, see Lambert 1967b: 120–121. The new fragments published in George and Taniguchi 2019 (nos. 57 and 58) do not preserve this line. Note that Stol (2007b: 238) acknowledges that in Tukulti-Ninurta Epic (bm 98730) rev. 8′ (Lambert 1957–1958: 44–45; Machinist 1978: 128–129), mal-ṭa-rat a-su-ti should be read as “texts of asûtu”; line 82 in the Gula Hymn of Bulluṭsa-rabi can thus be read both ways. E.g. canes 691; cco 2 A 686 (Collon 2001: 130); for other examples see Seidl 1998: 25–27 (with figs. 15–18, 20). ctn 4 116 rev. 20′–21′ (= bam 580 ii 16′–17′); mentioned in paragraph 3.3.1.3; note that Geller (2000: 338) reads maš-⸢ṭar⸣-ki, “your prescription”. See Stol 2007b: 238 and Heeßel 2018 for the rare occurrence of masdaru; see also paragraph 8.3.3.
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a-sa-ku-ma bul-luṭ a-le-ʾ-i I am an asû, I am able to heal65 Similarly, Gula’s epithet mūdât murṣi66 in other texts hints at the knowledge of the scholars, who were the mūdû, the “knowledgeable experts”. The šuillaprayer Gula 1a discussed in paragraph 3.2.4.1 also conjures up associations between Gula and the human educated and competent scholarly healers. It states that she can heal (bulluṭu, šullumu) and that she knows how to save, spare, and rescue—indicated with the verb edû, from which mūdû is derived.67 Gula was openly invoked by the professional asûs to make healing rituals effective, and the message was sent out that she directly passed down her healing knowledge to her human counterparts, which made the latter exclusive, trustworthy, and authoritative healers. In the series igi, Gula casts the incantation of life (šipat balāṭi) while the scholars (enqūtu) apply the bandages (ṣimdēti liqerribū), and she may establish the efficacy of the remedy (balāṭ bulṭi).68 Enqūtu, “the wise”, clearly refers to the educated scholars who understand the goddess’s knowledge and performed the healing in her name; there was no greater assurance that the cure would be effective.69 Professional asûs further referred in the medical texts that they produced to their practices as commands of Gula (ina qibīt Gula),70 and stated that these commands (and thus the cures of the asûs) were reliable.71 That the professional asûs were the ones performing the actions that Gula instructed them on is pointed out in statements like Gula bēlet asûti iddīma anāku ašši, “Gula, the mistress of asûtu,
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Lambert 1967b: 120–121 (line 79), and George and Taniguchi 2019 nos. 57 and 58. bam 7 9: 52 (Ms. I and K); and 55 (nu i₃!-zu š[u]-mu mu-ni-in-dab / mur-ṣi ⸢la⸣ i-du-u₂ qa-ti ṣab-ti, only preserved on Ms. K = kar 73 rev. 17–18), see paragraph 3.3.1.3. Lenzi 2011: 247. For a similar phrase, but without a reference to healing knowledge, see already the Middle Babylonian seal Limet 1971: no. 8.14 (oip 47: no. 70; Stiehler-Alegria Delgado 1996: no. 236), see paragraph 3.2.2. igi 1 75′–76′ (bam 514 ii 24′ // bam 513 ii 27′–28′ // bam 510 ii 12′–13′), Collins 1999: 222–224; Geller and Panayotov 2020: 77. For emqu referring to the highly educated scholars, see Part 3; for the association between emqu and mudû, see Enūma eliš 7 146 (Lambert 2013: 132–133). E.g. bam 524 ii′ 5′, an incantation against a bloody nose. sa-niq qa-bu-u₂ ša dgu-la, “reliable is the utterance of Gula”, bam 513 iii 4 // bam 510 ii 37′ (igi 1 100′, Geller and Panayotov 2020: 84–85, who translate “[I am] the one who executes the command of Gula”; however, the construction with the stative saniq referring to divine utterance is well-known from personal names, as for instance listed in cad s: 139—to which Geller and Panayotov [2020: 263] themselves refer as well).
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cast (a spell) and I carried (it) out”.72 During healing rituals, professional asûs emphasized that the ritual that they performed came from Gula, and both the healers and their patients invoke and praise her during it. In bam 7 9 ii 13′–17′ for instance, in which Gula is specialized in asûtu and heals with human techniques, clear instructions are given to the healer, such as making the patient bow down three times and making him drink his potion (šammu), and speak out loud the incantation praising Gula.73 In the preceding incantation, bam 7 9 ii 1′-8′, which is probably also directed to Gula,74 the reciter states that he neither understands diseases nor knows their cure, and so he lets the goddess guide him.75 It is implied that Gula gives the instructions for the actions to be performed on the patient to her protégée, the performing scholarly asû, who through the spoken words and his special connection with Gula knew how to heal these diseases.76 It is also clear that Gula embodied the mundane healing actions and techniques performed by the professional asûs in the mythological realm, where she operated as if she were a professional asû.77 For instance, in an incantation against diarrhoea preserved on bm 98584+,78 Marduk, Ningirima and Gula appear together, Marduk as the cosmic healer who involves the gods, Ningirima as the incantation deity “who replaces the stopper” (mu-tir-rat bu-ru-us-su, rev. iii 17) and Gula as the one who performs the healing ritual. She makes a mash of beer bread, seed of the papparḫû plant, and sheep fat over a fire79 from 72
73 74 75
76
77 78 79
E.g. dgu-la ⸢en⸣ [a]-zu-ti i-di-ma ana-ku aš₂-ši, igi 1 192′ (bam 510 iv 39, see also bam 514 iv 44), Geller and Panayotov 2020: 104–105. For this type of spell (read out loud to employ the divine power of a deity), see Lambert 2008: 93. See also Panayotov 2018: 90 n. 6. Geller and Panayotov 2020: 36 have a different opinion on how this passage reflects on the relationship between Gula and asûs. They postulate that it shows that, unlike the āšipu, the asû distances himself from the procedures through not taking responsibility for her commands and “casts himself as a technician rather than divine agent”. bam 7 9 ii 13′–17′ (Ms. K [kar 73] obv. 28–32); see also Böck 2008: 380–310; 2014: 87–88. Based on the epithet [a-z]u-gal-la-tu₂ ṣir-tu₂ in line 1′ and the mentioning of the šammu, see paragraph 3.3.1.3. bam 7 9 ii 6′ (Ms. K [kar 73] obv. 21: at-ti ti-de-e a-na-ku la i-du-u₂; Ms. J 7 ii 6′: at-ti zuu₂ ana-ku nu zu), “you understand (them), I do not understand (them)”, following a list of diseases; see also Böck 2008: 308; 2014: 87. However, the asû was not divine, and would never have been able to fully do what Gula could. An important characteristic of the healing goddesses was the ability to revive the dead, which is something that man could not do. This is also emphasized in Adapa, where Ea prevents his protégée from obtaining all divine knowledge (Michalowski 1980: 77–82; van Binsbergen and Wiggermann 1999: 23). See also Böck 2014: 15–44, 78–115. Geller 2010b: 65; Steinert 2013: 11–13; Böck 2014: 101–104 (see paragraph 3.3.1.3). dgu-la ra-pi-ik bappir₂ numun babbar-ḫisar i₃(sic!)-udu ina izi li-šab-ši-il, “may Gula cook a
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which pills are produced; Gula then administers them to the patient.80 The actions Gula performs in the incantation conform to the actions prescribed in the actual ritual (rev. iii 30–33), meaning that an asû was standing in for Gula. The connection between the two is emphasized in the ritual in order to give divine legitimacy to this administration of pills as a remedy for diarrhoea.81 The fact that in late 2nd and 1st millennium b.c.e., professional asûs purposefully portrayed Gula as their divine image in order to legitimize and distinguish themselves in a competitive medical marketplace, is suggestive of the possibility that this image embodied tension with other healers. And indeed, in textual and iconographical sources, one can recognize ways in which Gula encapsuled elements of other healers to set professional asûs off against them. These will be discussed in the following paragraphs.
8.3
Gula Representing Competition between Professional asûs and Other Healers
The way Gula was portrayed represents the competition experienced by professional asûs. Through Gula, they set themselves apart from and tried to keep up with their scholarly colleagues, in particular the āšipus, and at the same time, they claimed the practices, techniques, and reputations of less powerful lay and folk healers who competed with them in the medical marketplace. These processes and motivations are, however, not always explicit, and one needs to read between the lines to recognize them. The following paragraphs will give some concrete examples of how Gula was used by professional asûs to make themselves attractive healing options at the expense of other healers, from scholarly colleagues to female healers and gallābus.
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mash of beer bread, seed of the papparḫû plant and sheep fat over fire!”, bm 98584+ rev. iii 18. ⸢d⸣gu-la ku-pa-tin-nu ša₂ ra-pi-qi li-kap-pit-ma [nenni a] nenni li-ša₂-kil-ma, “may Gula produce pills from the mash! May she administer (them) to [so-and-so, son of] so-and-so!”, bm 98584+ rev. iii 23–24. Böck (2014: 101, 120–128, 172) also recognizes an “active physician” in Gula who produces pills for diarrhoea, and postulates that these actions go back to Gula’s affiliation with the functioning of the biliary system. Steinert (2014: 361) has pointed out that the textual evidence does not support the claim that Gula has a special affinity with biliary ailments.
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8.3.1
Competition among Scholars: Gula Increasing Power of Professional asûs As discussed in Part 2, scholars and professional healers contended with each other for clientele, in particular the king, whose recognition would ensure a stable career, access to resources, privilege and power, and superiority over other healers. They called each other incompetent and continuously tried to prove their value to the king, regularly at the cost of others. The letters between the Neo-Assyrian kings and their scholars are testimonies to strife between them and feelings of being threatened by each other.82 Professional asûs thus likely experienced rivalry with āšipus and bārûs, who also offered practices to restore and maintain the health of the king, the country, and its people from a hegemonic, theistic perspective.83 There is little evidence for rivalry between bārûs and asûs, and most of it rather points to a collaboration between them.84 Bārûs were not prominent in medical texts, but asûs and bārûs were regularly mentioned together in for instance hemerologies, prescribing on which days an asû shall or shall not touch the patient and a bārû should make a prediction.85 Their disciplines thus overlapped and they cooperated, and the bārû could predict the performance of asûtu and make prognosis for the sick person. This is further illustrated by saa 10 315, the Neo-Assyrian royal letter in which Urdu-Nanaya, the asû of Esarhaddon, advises the king to let bārûs clarify or validate a diagnosis.86 Bārûs further may have had a certain amount of power of asûs and professional asûs could be called descendants of bārûs.87 Also, asûs could be called to heal bārus; in a 1st millennium b.c.e. omen report, it is mentioned that a bārû from Babylon is very ill (ma-a-du ma-ru-uṣ) and the king is asked to send an asû to go and see him.88
82 83 84 85
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Parpola 1983: xviii; see paragraph 7.2.1. See paragraph 5.3. E.g. Jean 2006: 149–153, 161–164; Koch 2015: 18–24; Lenzi 2015a: 177–178. E.g. Stol 1991–1992: 56–58; Lambert 2007: 130–131 no. 25; Worthington 2009: 71–72; Livingstone 2013: 104, 274 (commonly in the Offering Bread Hemerology [Hemerology of Aššur] and the Inbu bēl arḫi, the hemerologies of the elite and royal circle); Koch 2015: 128–129. See Rutz 2011: 253–259 for a discussion of medical diagnostic-prognostic texts (of which the most substantial is Sakikkû, see Heeßel 2000). saa 10 315: 7–19; Stol 1991–1992: 48; Koch 2005: 148–149; 2015: 128. Anti-witchcraft ritual CMAwR 7.18: 37′′–39′′ (kal 2 9 rev. 16′–18′) was written by an apprentice scribe (lu₂šaman₂-la₂) who also carried the title ⸢lu₂a-zu⸣ a-g[a-aš-gu-u] (CMAwR 7.18: 37′′); the titles of his ancestors, besides šangû-priests of Bau, was lu₂azu/bārû (rev. 17′–18′). saa 8 463 rev. 2–6.
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The competition between asûs and āšipus is more clear in the textual record, although also here there is much evidence for collaborations and complementarity. Āšipus and asûs who were trained at the scholarly level and can be considered professional healers held high positions at the Neo-Assyrian royal court: they conversed with the king, sometimes jointly, on illness and health, as well as on other topics, such as politics and religion.89 They were likely able to fulfil each other’s role and were mentioned side by side as both their services were desired by clients, which for instance is expressed in saa 13 66, in which the author asks for the king to make and both an āšipu and an asû available in order to treat and heal him together.90 They thus could offer complementary treatments.91 The medical literature and catalogues even reflect that they studied the same texts, used similar if not the same techniques, and treated similar diseases and body parts.92 Recently, Steinert (2018a; 2018b) has been able to provide insight into the asûtu and āšipūtu as scholarly lore by using the Aššur Medical Catalogue and the so-called “Exorcist’s Manual” kar 44 as points of departure.93 The professional asûs were quite late with structuring and serializing their written corpus, which in the 2nd millennium b.c.e. still was an incoherent collection of domestic, oral traditions. The clearest evidence for an organized scholarly asûtu is the Aššur Medical Catalogue, like “The Exorcist’s Manual” kar 44 was for the āšipūtu. Based on these catalogues, Steinert shows that asûtu and āšipūtu partially overlap, as they cover a similar range of texts. Both contain similar topics related to healing, diagnostic texts, medical prescriptions, divinatory texts and incantations and ritual instructions, and āšipūs and asûs seem to have treated the same range of illnesses.94 However, Steinert also recognizes a distinct Schwerpunkt in both scholarly lores. The asûtu is focused on recipe collections or medical prescriptions or remedies (bulṭū) ordered by topic, which were combined with incantations, ritual instructions
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E.g. Jean 2006: 101–102, 112–128; 168–170; 197–208; Villard 2006; Geller 2010a: 86–88; Steinert 2018a: 179. 1-en lu₂maš-maš 1-en lu₂a-zu ina igi-ia lip-qid-ma [ki-i a]-ḫa-meš dul-li le-pu-šu […], “let him (i.e. my lord) appoint one āšipu and one asû to attend me; they should treat me [to]gether”, saa 13 66 rev. 11′–13′. E.g. Stol 1991–1992: 58–62, Jean 2006: 101–102, 121–122, 125; Villard 2006; Steinert 2018a: 188– 189. See recently Schwemer 2015: 26–27; Panayotov 2015: 486–487; 2018: 90–91; Steinert 2018a: 181–182. Steinert 2018a; 2018b; who further emphasizes that the compilation, serialization and use of medical corpora was a “joint venture” of āšipus and asûs. See also Heeßel 2010b: 31–35 for the serialization of the therapeutic text corpus. Steinert 2018a: 181.
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and divinatory texts. The āšipūtu primarily contains incantations and therapeutic rituals for various purposes, including a separate diagnostic series for healing practice. The letters between the Neo-Assyrian kings and their scholars further confirm that these bulṭū were indeed the primary focus of professional asûs, who generally refer to bulṭū and medical knowledge that can be linked to the Aššur Medical Catalogue, while the āšipus concentrate on material related to kar 44, rituals, and divination.95 As discussed earlier in this chapter, Gula the divine asûs was the divine provider and mistress of bulṭū. The professional asûs may have tried to distinguish themselves from other healers, including āšipus, with this term and through Gula. The necessity of developing their own niche and gaining authority within the scholarly circles may have been vital for the professional asûs especially because the āšipus seem to have earned more prestige. For instance, in saa 7 1, a list of experts at the royal court, the āšipus and ṭupšarrus Enūma Anu Enlil were listed first and therefore probably the most important royal scholars, after whom followed the bārûs and asûs.96 Moreover, the āšipus alleged that bulṭū was not the domain of the asûs, but their prerogative instead, as they labeled bulṭū as niṣirti āšipūti, “the secret of the art of the āšipus”.97 This would be a reason for competition, which seems to be reflected in the mythological realm. The āšipus were represented by Marduk/Asalluḫi and Enki/Ea, who were ruling deities in the Mesopotamian pantheon, whereas Gula was not.98 They were often juxtaposed and each had their own tasks—although sometimes there was overlap in what they embodied. Sometimes Gula could be associated with āšipus,99 but generally Gula was described as the asû performing domestic healing actions in conjunction with Marduk/Asalluḫi, who had the important role as wise āšipu or as apkallu, mythological scholar, to restore cosmic order and destroy evil to protect hegemonic structures.100 Even in the Gula Hymn of 95 96 97 98 99
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Steinert 2018a: 179. Steinert 2018a: 190 n. 169. bam 322: 89–90; Lenzi 2008a: 163. For other medical texts being claimed as niṣirtu of āšipus, see paragraph 5.3. Van Binsbergen en Wiggermann 1999: 30. See for instance one variant of kar 44, which has Gula (Meme) as the deity who provided Esagil-kīn-apli with wisdom; Geller 2018b: 302 (variant d). See also Esagil-kīn-apli’s Catalogue of Sakikkû and Alamdimmû line 60, Finkel 1988: 148–150; Frahm 2011: 326–327; Schmidtchen 2018b: 317, 326. E.g. bm 98584+ iii 4–33 (Geller 2010b: 65; Steinert 2013: 11–13; Böck 2014: 101–104, see paragraph 3.3.1.3), in which Marduk is the divine apkallu who brings the healing case before his father Ea and Gula the one who prepares the medication, and ctmma 2 30 with parallels bm 42454+ and bm 42399 (Finkel 2000: 201–202 with fig. 55 and 56; 2005: 157–159; Böck 2014: 94–98). In the latter, šu-gidim-ma, “Hand of the Ghost”, is warded off by Gula the
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Bulluṭsa-Rabi, the āšipus were placed over asûs. The latter may have aimed to incorporate their colleagues’ image into their own through the image of Gula, as she, whose role as asû is made clear in this hymn, calls herself by all three scholarly titles at once: a-sa-ku ba-ra-ku a-ši-pak I am an asû, I am a bārû, I am an āšipu101 Another way in which professional asûs may have expressed intentions to exalt themselves among scholars in the Gula Hymn of Bulluṭsa-rabi is by emphasizing the goddess’s loftiness and greatness.102 In line 143 of the hymn, Gula states that Anu “made me excel among her brothers (atḫū)”.103 This may not reflect Gula’s family relationships in the divine realm, but, as atḫū also refers to members of a group of equal status and age, point to her protegées excelling among their scholarly colleagues.104 However, in this hymn, the āšipus are still placed over asûs through Ea, the divine embodiment of the āšipus. As seen in paragraph 8.2, without Ea, Gula would not have been endowed with the scholarly, written corpus of asûtu, which alludes to a subordinate position of the asûs.105
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asû who heals with the use of incantations and bodily healing involving touch, whereas Marduk/Asalluḫi revives the dead, destroys evil, and averts fate determined by the gods— Finkel (2000: 201; 2005: 157) identified this incantation as part of the lore of the āšipus. Also in uet 6/2 393, Gula is azugallatu and Marduk the apkallu of the gods. See further two Late Babylonian texts, Gula is azugallatu (rabītu) whereas Marduk is the āšipu of the gods (rom 910x209.531 obv. 7, 11 and Campbell Thompson 1927: pl. 1 ii 28; Linssen 2004: 318–320). See further paragraph 3.3.1.3. Another example is Maqlû 7 42, in which Asalluḫi provides the incantation and Gula her riksu rabbatu, “great bandage” (Abusch 2016: 172, 351; see also kal 4 28 obv. 21′). Gula and asûs were hardly present in the anti-witchcraft corpus in which cosmic battles are fought against chaos-bringing witches, which was clearly the domain of the āšipus and his divine counterparts Marduk and Enki/Ea. For the process of Marduk as the god of magic obtaining cosmic rule (as described in Enūma Eliš), see van Binsbergen and Wiggermann 1999: 28. This must have led to a strong tension between the kind of magic associated with Marduk and “black” magic, magic that is used for immoral, uncivilized practices, which is how the witch became the cosmic enemy of Marduk par excellence (van Binsbergen and Wiggermann 1999: 28–29). Gula Hymn of Bulluṭsa-Rabi line 183 (Lambert 1967b: 128–129; see also George and Taniguchi 2019: no. 59). Compare K 232+, a sycretistic hymn of Ninisina, in which the goddess is not called asû, but bārû and āšipu (muššipu) (ap-kal-lat ba-ra-at muš-ši-pat, K 232+ rev. 30′; George and Taniguchi 2019 no. 63), see also paragraph 4.2. Lambert 1967b: 118–121 (lines 54–67). ina at-ḫe-e u₂-ša₂-tir-an-n[i], Lambert 1967b: 124–125. cad a/1: 492; AHw: 86 translates “Genossen, Gefährten”. Gula Hymn of Bulluṭsa-Rabi line 144 (Lambert 1967b: 124–125; Lenzi 2008a: 98–99). Note
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Moreover, her role as compassionate mother who interceded before Marduk on behalf of her worshipers shows that she stood closer to the people, and was not as elevated and unreachable as the divine ruling elite.106 This precedence of āšipus over asûs makes sense when one takes into consideration that āšipus were dependent on and involved in the hegemonic and theistic religious spheres and thus must have had a stronger identity as actors in the name of the divine. But perhaps more importantly, as discussed throughout this work, the practice of āšipus was more rooted in the scholarly education and tradition, and as more established scholars they may have had more influence on the scholarly curriculum. These differences in power, background in the scholarly circles, theoretical premises, and relationship with the divine between asûs and āšipus also must have resulted in divergent strategies to establish legitimacy and authority. Divine patronage was essential to āšipus, as their core tasks were communicating with and restoring relationships with the divine. Exhibiting their special status as learned men who possessed secret, divine knowledge was precisely what made āšipus attractive to their clients. They offered to restore their patients’ relationship with the divine through reciting enigmatic Sumerian incantations over their patients that only a few could understand, while saying out loud that these words were not theirs, but those of the god Ea and Marduk/Asalluḫi.107 They nevertheless also needed to compete with lay and folk healers discussed in Chapter 5. Besides the strategies discussed in Chapter 7, they did so in the following ways: they made these healers their cosmic enemies and/or drew the healing knowledge belonging to these other occupations to themselves through giving themselves these healing titles. Examples of these are women healers, and the šim-mu₂/raqqû, whose title was equated with āšipu in lexical lists,108 and the muš-laḫ₄/mušlaḫḫu. As discussed in paragraph 5.2.3, mušlaḫḫus were snake specialists and healers who obtained their traditional, empirical knowledge from their direct environment, namely local snakes and the injuries and illness these animals caused. They
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that the author Bulluṭsa-rabi went down in history as an āšipu in a Catalogue of Texts and Authors and was copied by an āšipu (Lambert 1962: 66 v 3–5 = vi 1–2; 1967b: 107; Hunger 1968: 126 no. 435, see paragraph 3.3.1.3). The hymn does not have an apparent connection to āšipus (Lambert 1967b: 108; Lenzi 2008a: 98). It probably reflects the conceptualization of the hymn as an important source of scholarly knowledge, worthy of study and preservation (Lambert 1962: 66; 1967b: 108) that also was of great interest to āšipus, especially as it reinforced their elevated status. See paragraph 3.3.1.3. For this role of Gula, and female goddesses in general, in the 1st millennium b.c.e., see Asher-Greve and Westenholz 2013. Lenzi 2010; see also for instance the incantation series udug-ḫul (Geller 2015). Paragraph 5.2.1.
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could be close to the king, but they did not make it to the scholarly ummanûs. Their knowledge and art was nevertheless of interest to the scholars, and they tried to incorporate it into their secret lore. This is, for instance, demonstrated in texts like Ṣēru šikinšu, a list that focuses on how to recognize snakes by their outward appearance,109 which was incorporated in the scholarly literature from the late 2nd millennium b.c.e. on.110 It even was labeled as secret knowledge of the scholars with the secrecy statement that it can only be shown from one expert to another and that the uneducated one could not see it, it being a restriction of the great gods.111 This herpetological knowledge seems to have been mušlaḫḫūtu, the art of the mušlaḫḫus, who as snake handlers and specialists were able to treat a snake bite based on the knowledge of nature of the snake that inflicted it. As discussed in paragraph 5.2.3, research of modern snake charmers and handlers shows that they can have an extremely skillful knowledge of how to handle different kinds of snakes, and that they can recognize which snake caused a bite based on the marks it left and symptoms it caused, and consequently know how to treat the bite.112 This specialized traditional knowledge was usurped by scholarly, professional asûs and āšipus. Besides Ṣēru šikinšu, other snake-related material such as incantations and therapeutic texts concerning snakes and snake bites were part of the scholarly medical corpus as well in the 1st millennium b.c.e., as is for instance recorded in “The Exorcist’s Manual” kar 44 and the Aššur Medical Catalogue.113 While their knowledge became more visible in the scholarly curricu109 110
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Rochberg 2016: 85–92. Until recently, Ṣēru šikinšu was only known from tablets from Nineveh (see Landsberger 1934: 52–54; Mirelman 2015), but recently Finkel (2018: 31–33) published a tablet inventory from the Istanbul museum that probably dates to the 2nd half of the 2nd millennium b.c.e. and contains the entry [diš…] x: diš muš gar?-⸢šu⸣, (Ni. 2909 obv. 1′). For Ṣēru šikinšu, see also Reiner 1995: 29–30. [zu-u z]u-a li-kal-lim ⸢nu-zu⸣-a nu igi-mar nig-gig dingir-meš gal-[meš], ct 17 4+ rev. 30, Lenzi 2008a: 189–190; Mirelman 2015: 177–178. Most of the snakes in Ṣēru šikinšu have been deemed mythological (Landsberger 1934: 55– 60; Pientka-Hinz 2009: 204–210; see also Mirelman 2015), but just like there were no hard and fast lines between the natural and supernatural properties of the stones classified in Abnu šikinšu, this distinction might not be useful for Ṣēru šikinšu either (Postgate 1997: 214–218, especially page 218; Rochberg 2016: 88–89). Note further that the ušumgal-snake for instance is a “real” snake after all (see paragraph 5.1). The understanding and descriptions of these snakes that were relevant to Mesopotamian medical procedures may simply not be fully understood by the modern scholar because it does not conform to modern descriptions of fauna. [n]a! ⸢muš⸣ iš-šuk-š[u], “[prescriptions for the case that a m]an—a snake has bitten him” and u₂-ḫi-a ša bur₂ ša ni-šik ⸢muš⸣, “drugs to relieve a snake bite”, amc part 2 rev. 76–77 (Steinert 2018b: 215, 250); zu₂ muš ti-la, “to heal a snake bite”, kar 44 line 19 (Geller 2018b:
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lum, references to the mušlaḫḫus themselves practically disappeared from the textual record. When they are mentioned, it sheds light on their competition with āšipus, who were able to make mušlaḫḫus, and their female counterparts, into their cosmic adversaries as performers of witchcraft.114 They were, however, also referred to as a force against witchcraft collaborating with āšipus;115 this ambiguity is caused by the fact that mušlaḫḫus were healers operating in the domestic sphere who were little respected yet threatening and hard to control.116 As was the case with women healers, the mušlaḫḫu’s skills were liminal and inaccessible to others, even supernatural, as they were able to render harmless a dangerous and potentially lethal animal. This knowledge in itself was enough to obtain special status, but they may have reinforced their special, almost mythical status by performing with snakes. Since the mušlaḫḫu had some performative connotations, it is well possible that this referred to demonstrations involving, as described in paragraph 5.2.3, being covered and even bitten by snakes—all of which was possible because their knowledge of snakes allowed them to render the animals harmless, for instance, by cutting their fangs or extracting poison. These performances are also important for the exhibition of the skill and authority of modern snake charmers and handlers.117 This special knowledge of snakes gave mušlaḫḫus extraordinary powers, with which they potentially could do harm. As will be discussed in the following paragraph, it is possible for a more powerful character like the āšipu to change the narrative around such a threatening liminal character into one that does not aim to help society, but to damage it. The snake was a liminal animal,118 and mušlaḫḫu was a liminal profession, which had been made into a threat to cosmic order by the āšipus to make it a less attractive healing option. Such divine patronage and theistic frameworks were not inherent to the practice of asûs, and therefore the professional asûs could not make other healers into cosmic threats to the established order. But they needed to distinguish themselves, especially because non-scholarly, non-professional healers stood closer to asûs than to āšipus; asûs also heavily relied on the same kind of indigenous knowledge—for instance, as shown in Part 2, both mušlaḫḫus
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299). For an overview of the few medical texts concerning snake bites, see Steinert 2018b: 249–250. Maqlû 4 91 and 132 (Abusch 2016: 124, 324, 326); CMAwR 7.8.3 iii′ 35′. Maqlû 7 94 (Abusch 2016: 181, 355; see also Abusch 2002: 9–10, 188–192); CMAwR 7.8.2: 39′–40′; 8.27, 1: 25 (=kar 26 obv. 25). Schwemer 2007: 78. Lorea 2018. See also Veldhuis 1993a: 166–167.
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and asûs healed snake bites. For asûs, the most potent way to establish a scholarly identity and set themselves apart from these competing healers, including those who bore the same title, was to make ordinary, domestic knowledge into secret, exclusive, divine medical knowledge.119 Gula was an important tool used to obtain the goal of gaining acknowledgement as serious scholars and dominate the medical marketplace. On the one hand, this mythological counterpart made professional asûs a match for their scholarly colleagues, whose authority was also dependent on their divine counterparts. And on the other hand, Gula allowed for the professional asûs to distance themselves from lay and folk healers while at the same time drawing their reputation, characteristics, and abilities to themselves through Gula, who embodied these. Although it would be expected due to their overlapping practice and the inclusion of mušlaḫḫūtu in asûtu, mušlaḫḫus and their art were not clearly incorporated in Gula’s image. However, glimpses of other healers can be noticed, such as female healers, healers specialized in herbal medicine (e.g. raqqûs), and gallābus, “hairdressers, barbers”. The following paragraphs will elaborate on this. 8.3.2
Gula Incorporating (Female) Lay and Folk Healers and Their Healing Practices Administering herbal medicine, bandaging, and healing through touch and manipulation with the hands are concrete examples of domestic knowledge and traditional healing practices that principally could be performed by anyone, but that were turned into something exclusive through Gula. As mentioned, the strategy of the āšipus to compete with lay and folk healers who specialized in such healing practices was making these actions wrongful and malicious. For instance, in the anti-witchcraft corpus, šammu is referred to as plants used for poisoning and witchcraft, as the lay woman healer and her healing practices had become the model for the malevolent witch and her witchcraft.120 Instead of focusing on denigrating these healers and their practice, professional asûs had to make this practice their own through Gula, and reframed it into an exclusive type of medicine that had been handed down to them by the divine. The Gula Hymn of Bulluṭsa-rabi shows this clearly in the passage in which she affirms to be an able professional asû:121
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Lindenbaum and Lock 1993: 147. Abusch 2002: 86–87; Schwemer 2007: 123–125. Gula Hymn of Bulluṭsa-rabi line 79–86 (Gula as Ninigizibara), Lambert 1967b: 120–121. See also George and Taniguchi 2019: nos. 57 (lines 79–83) and 58 (lines 79–86).
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a-sa-ku-ma bul-luṭ a-le-ʾ-i na-ša₂-ku u₂-ḫi-a kul-lat-su-nu u₂!-ne₂-es-si murṣu ez-ḫe-ku tu-kan-nu ša₂ ši-pat ba-la-ṭu na-ša₂-ku maš-ṭa-ru ša₂ ša₂-la-mu a-nam-din bul-ṭu a-na ba-ʾ-u₂-la-a-tu₂ el-lu rik-su sim-ma u₂-na-aḫ rab-bu ṣi-in-di gig u₂-pa-aš₂-ša₂-aḫ ina ni-iš igiii-ia mi-i-tu₂ i-bal-luṭ I am an asû, I am able to heal! I carry all healing plants (šammu), I drive away disease, I gird myself with a leatherbag with lifegiving incantations, I carry texts that heal,122 I give the (written) healing remedies (bulṭū) to mankind, my pure bandage (riksu) alleviates the simmu-skin affliction, my soft bandage (ṣimdu) relieves illness; at the raising of my eyes, the dead come back to life! Here the practice of bandaging (rakāsu and ṣamādu) is associated with medical texts of professional asûs (bulṭū, but also mašṭarāt ša šalāmu), and through Gula, these secret, learned healing practices were given the power to heal even the most hopeless cases. Bandaging should not require secret knowledge, and it has been demonstrated that also lay people could apply them. Nor was bandaging only connected to Gula in the Old Babylonian period, as it was one of the forms of healing that was among the many healing powers of the healing goddesses. Nevertheless, in the late 2nd millennium b.c.e., bandaging could be labeled as scholarly and divine knowledge. The Tukultī-Ninurta Epic demonstrates that the procedures for bandaging (nēpeš naṣmadāti) was recorded in the written asûtu corpus (malṭarāt asûti),123 among other scholarly crafts and corpora such as āšipūtu and bārûtu, that were considered scholarly secrets (niṣirtu).124 This passage thus insinuates that the practice of bandaging was a special procedure provided by and associated with scholars and professional asûs. It is possible that ṣamādu, “putting on a poultice, dressing”, and cognates were terms professional asûs aimed to restrict to themselves, whereas rakāsu referred more to the actual binding of bandaging and was used for the practice of bandaging performed by any healer. Professional asûs still described their own actions as rakāsu (as well as Gula’s),125 but made ṣamādu a practice 122
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Although maš-ṭa-ru is preferred (se the following bulṭū, and see mal-ṭa-rat a-su-ti in the Tukultī-Ninurta Epic [bm 98730 rev. 8′], mentioned below), it could also be read as masda-ru, “knife”, for a discussion, see paragraph 8.2. See paragraph 6.3.4. Tukulti-Ninurta Epic [bm 98730] rev. 2′–8′, Lambert 1957–1958: 44–45; Machinist 1978: 128– 129. See also paragraph 6.3.4. E.g. Gula’s great bandage (riksu rabbatu) in Maqlû 7 42, Abusch 2016: 172, 351 (see also kal 4 28 obv. 21′).
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only performed by them.126 That the ṣimdu-bandage was claimed by professional asûs is alluded to by the “ṣimdu-bandage of the asû” (ṣimdu ša asî) found in lexical lists.127 That they were perceived as secret as well as divine-inspired knowledge is perhaps also emphasized by the previously mentioned incantation from the series igi: šub-di dgu-la tu₆ ti-la en-qu-ti ṣi-im-de-ti li-qer-ri-bu at-ti taš-ku-ni ba-laṭ bu-ul-ṭi May Gula lay down the spell of life, may the wise apply the bandages! You (Gula) have brought about the efficacy of the remedy!128 This incantation conveys the assertion of the scholars that they were the ones who applied the ṣimdu-bandage, and not the uneducated and uninitiated— although, as already stated, in reality it was performed by lay healers. The scholars claimed to perform the bandaging under the supervision of Gula, who was ultimately the one who healed through her scholarly, professional asûs. In the Gula Hymn of Bulluṭsa-rabi, Gula carried all healing plants (šammu) as part of her identity as professional asû; as stated above, herbal medicine and the preparation of šammus was something also performed by lay healers. In bam 7 9 ii 13′–17′, Gula heals with šammu (balāṭi), “plants, drugs (of life)”, or perhaps rather “potions”.129 In several medical texts, šammu and mašqītu, which are both associated with asûs,130 are labeled as the secret of kingship and
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For rakāsu as “to bandage” (French “bander”) and ṣamādu as “to put a dressing on” (French “panser”), see Durand 1988: 552 n. 81. Ṣamādu seems to have been used less often in everyday occurrences than rakāsu, and more in restricted contexts such as medical texts and letters from the Middle Babylonian period on, see AHw: 1080; cad ṣ: 91–92; Sibbing Plantholt 2014: 174, 176–178; 180–181 (for professional asûs performing rakāsu, see for instance saa 10 319: 13 and medical texts mentioned in cad r: 97–98). For rakāsu performed by asûs in earlier periods, see further arm 26 276: 17; 296; arm 26 125 rev. 8′′; Middle Assyrian laws A par. 8 (u₃ šum-ma lu₂a-zu ur-tak-ki-is-ma, line 81, for a translation see Roth 1997: 156–157); see also Old Babylonian incantations ct 42 32 obv. 8 (Ninkarrak performed rakāsu) and parallel text lb 1000 obv. 3 (Ninkarrak performed ṣamādu), mentioned in paragraph 8.1). E.g. msl 10 138; SPbTU 3 116 obv. i 27. igi 1 75′–76′ (Geller and Panayotov 2020: 76–77); reconstruction based on bam 510 ii 12′–13′ (šub-di dgu-la tu₆ ti-[la … b]a-laṭ bu-ul-ṭi) // bam 513 ii 27′–28′ (šub-di dgu-la tu₆ ti-la en-quti [… taš-ku]n? ba-laṭ bu-ul-ṭi₂) // bam 514+ ii 23′–24′ ([…] ṣi-im-de-ti li-qer-ri-bu at-ti tašku-ni ba-laṭ bu-ul-ṭi)—no exemplar preserves the entire sentence. Böck 2014: 89. Šammu is often associated with asûs in letters; it is already mentioned in the Old Babylonian period with (both peripheral and urban) asûs, see lapo 16 171 (Finet 1954–1957: 134);
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directly labeled as belonging to the king, making them the property of scholars and ultimately their royal patron. Sometimes Gula was involved in the preparations.131 This is also expressed in an incantation with accompanying healing ritual, in which the reciter exclaims that Gula as the asû (asâtu) and the one who knows (mudât) about healing (bulluṭu) and animal bites, possesses the šammi balāṭi, “potion, drugs of life”, that is prepared by the healer during the ritual, who states that he took up the drugs (šammu).132 This incantation and ritual instilled the idea that this life-giving šammu was part of the asûtu, and that the professional asûs’ divine patron gave these medications their efficacy. As for Gula’s connection to medicinal plants, Böck (2014: 129–176) suggests that certain of the latter were associated with Gula, namely bušʾānu, lišān kalbi, and ḫaṭṭi rēʾî, and ṣaṣuntu.133 Of these plants, only ṣaṣuntu is speficically called “plant of Gula” in Uruanna,134 which could mean that professional asûs claimed this plant for their practice.135
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lapo 16 170 (arm 4 65). In the Middle Babylonian medical letter it might be administered by a professional asû (be 17 32 obv. 2, Sibbing Plantholt 2014: 177); for the 1st millennium b.c.e. sources, see saa 10 316 rev. 15; potentially also saa 10 337 obv. 1—note that in saa 10 191 obv. 5–10, the Neo-Assyrian king wrote his āšipu Adad-šumu-uṣur about a šammu. Mašqītu is always referred to in the context of asûs and their practice in the letters of scholars to the Neo-Assyrian kings, see Lenzi 2008a: 186 n. 243. The asû Urdu-Nanaya and the āšipu Nabû-nāṣir mention mašqīt asûti, “potions of asûtu”, in a joint letter to the NeoAssyrian king Esarhaddon (saa 10 294 rev. 1; Geller 2007a: 14). For šammu and mašqītu in the Middle Babylonian medical letters, see Sibbing Plantholt 2014. E.g. bam 579 iv 33–43 // bam 50 rev. 7–23; see also bam 49 obv. 9′–20′; here the secret of the king is not mentioned. U 30655: 6 (⸢šam⸣-mi ba-la-ṭu), 7 (šam-mu ⸢al⸣-qi₂, “I took up the drugs”), 11–13 (Finkel 1999: 221–223; see also Böck 2014: 90–92). Böck (2014: 129–176) attempted to establish relationships between these plants and specific diseases, but Steinert (2014: 361–362) has pointed out that this raises some serious concerns, since these plants cannot be exclusively linked to certain ailments. Böck 2014: 158–159 (u₂ dgu-la u₂ ṣa-ṣu-un-tu₂). The by-name “Gula’s Dog” for (some of) these plants is more difficult to associate with the practice of the asû, as the reason for the by-name could be caused by other factors (e.g. its apprearance, or its role in folk tales). Böck (2014: 171) suggests that the plants “were believed to be efficacious because of their medicinal properties, and that the religious concept modelled on the healing goddess was grafted upon them—probably to ensure and enhance their efficacy.” The question would then be why these plants needed to be associated with Gula, who would benefit from this and would be able to do this. Such a process would fit very well with the process of legitimization by the professional asûs, and perhaps also that of claiming exclusive healing products as described in paragraph 7.2.2. Based on the available evidence I was not able to establish a clear connection between the use of this plant and the practice of professional asûs; this requires a more in-depth study.
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The Gula Hymn of Bulluṭsa-Rabi also emphasizes that Gula stood for a divine healing touch (liptu šulmu).136 Touch and manipulation with the hands was a significant part of the healing process in both divine healing, in which the divine touched people to heal them,137 and in earthly healing, in particular in lay healing and the practice of asûs.138 The complexity of touch in healing encounters is emphasized by Kosak (2106: 247), who states that “touching is the act that places the greatest demands on the privacy and bodily integrity of the patient”. Cross-culturally, interest is placed in the healer’s touch because the level of trust between patients and healers is measured by how much patients allow their healer to touch them. After all, healers are in a position of power as they touch a patient. They can increase pain with their touch and sometimes they purposefully do so, to see if an area of the body hurts; their patients have to be convinced of their skills and good intentions to allow them to do so. Moreover, through touch, healers are able to communicate with a patient’s body and obtain information from the body that patients themselves do not have.139 Therefore, throughout history, touch is often carefully regulated by social codes and the norms for touching are defined by tradition and persuasion.140 Because patients are most likely to accept the touch of a healer they are acquainted with, it may have played a more prominent part in domestic or lay healing, where the bond between patient and healer was close and familiar.141 Professional asûs profited from accentuating that they healed through touch. It allowed them to promote their capability to determine the physical state of the patient and the identity of the illness through touch, and it established that they were able to gain the trust of their patients.142 What is more, the professional asûs’ claim that their touch comprised divine healing made
136 137 138 139 140
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Gula Hymn of Bulluṭsa-rabi line 7, Lambert 1967b: 116–117 (Nintinuga section); see also George and Taniguchi 2019: no. 58. Note that divine touch also could refer to the divine inflicting illness on people; see the discussion of šu-ḫalbi/ama šu-ḫalbi, “cool-handed one/cool-handed mother”, in Chapter 4. For the use of the hands in the practice of asûs, see paragraph 6.1. Kosak 2016: 249–250. Leder and Krucoff 2008; Kosak 2016; Lewis 2016. In Mesopotamia, the touching of patients was not regulated by law and it appears that there were no concerns over gender. Male healers could touch both male and female patients, as for instance described in the Middle Babylonian medical letters (Sibbing Plantholt 2014). That the touch of patients by (professional) asûs was a precarious matter seems to be illustrated by the hemerologies that prescribe on which days asûs shall or shall not touch their patients (Livingstone 2013: 14: 17; 107: 3; 109: 62; 110 ii 3; 112: 35; 113: 66), see paragraph 5.3.2. Compare Lewis 2016 for this process in the Greco-Roman period.
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healing through touch performed by them a unique experience. Similar to the passage in the Gula Hymn of Bulluṭsa-rabi, incantation ctmma 2 30 states:143 dgu-la a-sa-a-ti te-ni-še-e-ti tu-ka bul-ṭu li-pit-ka šul-me e-ma šuii ub-ba-lu ša₂-la-mu šu-kun Gula, asû of the people, your incantation is a cure, your touch means healing. Wherever I place my hands, grant well-being! The touch of the hands of Gula, and thus professional asûs, is thus said to cure. One other testimony of the hand of asûs guided by the divine that needs to be mentioned does not involve Gula, but Nanaya, who was associated with Gula. In the Nanaya Hymn of Sargon ii (saa 3 4), it is emphasized that the success of the treatment brought about by the hands of a professional asû (asû mudû) lay in divine support:144 a-zu-u₂ mu-du-u₂ ša₂ ši-i la it-[tar-ru-šu₂] ma-ḫar aš₂-ta-bi-ri qa-as-su maa[q-ta-at] the hand of the educated asû, whom she (i.e. Nanaya) does not gu[ide], is powe[rless] before (his) dependents (i.e. clients?) This divine support in this case is Nanaya, who was associated with Gula as for instance evidenced in the Syncretistic Nanaya hymn;145 probably because of this, she may have been occasionally associated with asûs, as a name for or manifestation of Gula.146 Besides Gula’s hands being successful in healing, they were said to be soft and cooling. In K 6057+ iii 1′–28′, Gula the asû (asâtu) provides relief by using her soothing hands.147 She also healed with her soothing, gentle hands in
143 144 145 146 147
ctmma 2 30 (and duplicates bm 42454+ and bm 42399) lines 1–3 (Finkel 2000: 200–202; 2005: 157–159; Böck 2014: 94–98). saa 3 4 rev. ii 7′–8′. For the translation of aštābīru as “client”, see Livingstone 1989: 14. Reiner 1974: 225 paragraph v. See also the fact that Nanaya was associated with dogs, see Lam. 2 109 (Farber 2014: 112, 172–173) and Chapter 4 footnote 112. For an association between Nanaya and professional asûs, see the personal name UrduNanaya of a Neo-Assyrian professional asû (see for instance paragraph 6.3.5). ⸢u₂⸣ -šap-ša₂-aḫ dgu-la ina šuii-ša₂ ša₂ te-ni-iḫ-ḫu, “Gula provided relief with her hands that are soothing”, K 6057+ iii 8′; see Böck 2014: 113 (for this text, see paragraph 3.3.1.3). See also Maqlû 7 42–43, Abusch 2016: 172, 351.
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Muššuʾu 4/a.148 This must have sent out a message of comfort and reassurance to fearful and distrusting patients. Softness of the hands, which is important when it comes to bandaging,149 may have been a trait of women,150 which fits with the impression that touch was an particularly essential part in domestic or lay healing. Consequently, the message spread by the professional asûs was that their touch directly equated healing and that their hands channeled the healing powers of Gula.151 Making their touch an extraordinary and divine experience was an effective way for professional asûs to lay claim to a healing aspect that normally was associated with lay healing and women. As discussed in Part 2 and Chapter 7, the professional, scholarly healers competed with women healers, whose traditional and familiar forms of healing may have been more accessible and preferred by patients, a phenomenon recognizable throughout history. Moreover, women healers possessed knowledge that was not accessible to men. As Monica Green (2008: 224) puts it in the context of the medieval period: even though male authorities such as Aristotle and Galen may be cited on aspects of generation, there is something about women’s nature that remains thoroughly hidden from men, something that can only be learned as a woman. The tension between male hegemonic and female domestic healers is already visible early in the Mesopotamian record in for instance the competition between Enmerkar and Ensuḫkešana.152 In this composition, an um-ma, “mid-
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4/a line 6–7 exemplar F (bm 45405+ obv. 4: […] ⸢dgu-la⸣ ina rab-ba-a-tu₄ šuii-šu₂ d⸢da⸣m[u …]), Böck 2007: 150–151, Table xvi. This is a role of Ninkarrak in the Old Babylonian forerunners lb 1000 and ct 42 32; see paragraph 8.2. See for instance Ninkarrak bandaging with her gentle hands (juxtaposed to Damu) in lb 1000 obv. 3 and ct 42 32 obv. 8, see paragraph 8.1. See below. Note that Marduk (Ludlul bēl nēmeqi 1 10, 12) and Nabû (Acrostic Hymn to Nabû; Strong 1898: 156 rev. 6; see also cad r: 15) are described as having rittu rabbatu, “a gentle hand”. In the same line in the Acrostic Hymn to Nabû, Nabû is called the bēl balāṭi, “lord of life”, who holds lifegiving remedies (bulṭū), so his gentle hand fits in the context of healing. Perhaps this gentle, lifegiving hand stood in contrast to the rittu dannatu, “strong hand”, that defeats enemies (e.g. Ea [striking the toothworm] in ct 17 50: 23) and attacks humans (see for instance Maqlû 3 154–186 [Abusch 2016: 313–315]; compare also the rittu or attacking claw of Manzât; see Chapter 4 footnote 39). See also Ritter 1965: 321. Berlin 1979; Heimpel 1981b; Vanstiphout 1987; etcsl 1.8.2.4; Wilcke 2012. On the name Ensuḫkešana, see Wilcke 2012: 12–13. For the um-ma as a wise, knowledgeable woman from whom much can be learned, see also Behrens 1978: 74–75.
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wife/wise woman”,153 an important element in the folk sector of healing rooted in the domestic domain, outwits the maš-maš, a healer that belonged to the hegemonic, theistic spheres. A denigrating statement about midwives (šabšūtus) by a man may be found in an Old Babylonian letter, as he states: da-ṣa-tim-ma-mi ki-ma ša-a[b]-su₂-ti-ma i-ta-na-ap-pa-la-a-ni just like a midwife, they continue to answer me treacherously (or: disrespectfully).154 The tension between the āšipus and (especially female) folk or lay healers has been discussed in secondary scholarship, and, as mentioned earlier, is recognized for instance in their anti-witchcraft corpus. In the latter, the female cosmic enemies, or “witches”, bear titles and references that refer to folk female healing and midwifery roles.155 Abusch (2002: 56) speaks of the conflict between women and bureaucratic men, and sees the witch as the popular, traditional, non-urban healer, and the incantation priest or āšipu as the one who usurped her role by moulding her qualities into his own institutionalized profession.156 Witches, or rather women performing medicine and magic, were not necessarily perceived as evil by the general population; they helped others with her magical abilities and medical knowledge.157 But this rendered them liminal, and a threat. And in general, when a liminal character becomes a threat,
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“Wise woman” is the original meaning of the word midwife (< witwife) in English and in many other languages; see Stol 2000: 171–172. For midwives, see paragraph 5.2.5. AbB 10 57: 10–12. For this reading, see George 1979: 135; Kraus 1980; see also Worthington 2009: 50 n. 57. Stol 2000: 172–173; Schwemer 2007: 77, 275; see also Abusch 2002: 65–66; 2007: 150–153. See also Lambert 1987: 127. This newly created image of witchcraft was presented this way by the scholars, but this view was probably not shared by the general population, which still performed types of magic that were not considered to belong to the “shadowside”, an uncontrollable, counter-hegemonic, undomesticated world that threatened established order in the civilized world (van Binsbergen and Wiggermann 1999: 28). Abusch (2002: 65) identifies sorcery as the aggressive use of magical techniques for private ends performed by anyone (either directly or through the employment of someone else), and witchcraft as the acts of a person with perceived mystical power, a special class of human beings who have intrinsic attributes others do not have, and who mean to harm others. It must be noted that those involved with magic are generally distrusted because they take payments from those who want to have a spell cast as well as those who are affected by a spell and want to remove it; see for instance the curanderos in Saraguro Indian communities in Ecuador (Finerman 1989: 30).
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the narrative around this character can be changed by a more powerful character. This would have been the scholars, in particular the āšipus, who also were placed “outside” through their exclusivity but who were in a position of power. In their written records, they could turn women healers into agents who aimed to do damage rather than to help, and whose actions fell outside the accepted boundaries of the community.158 In the course of the 2nd millennium b.c.e., the āšipus worked on a reputation of being highly educated specialists who confronted evil forces (embodied by kaššaptus, “witches”). They turned female folk healers discussed in Chapter 5 into their cosmic enemies. The āšipus posed in rituals as the mythologically legitimate performer of an incantation, appointed by the divine, who repeated the divine words and decrees that had the authority to ward off the evil and illegitimate witches.159 Schwemer (2007: 275) already pointed out that the stereotype of the cosmic enemy as primarily female is driven by the fact that women were engaged in healing, although they were not part of the scholarly medical professions. It indicates a gender dichotomy of good, legitimate, and male versus evil, illegitimate, and female: male healers were those who helped people, whereas female healers harmed them. Such a binary, gender-based concept was a response to women holding a certain position of power; women healers were a reminder to the scholars that some knowledge could not be obtained by them. Nevertheless the scholars tried, and aimed to incorporate it in their own medical corpus. The 1st millennium b.c.e. medical manuscripts part of asûtu as well as āšipūtu record therapies to treat women with pregnancy, childbirth and postpartum problems that endanger mother and child, such as the loss of blood or amniotic fluid.160 The scholarly medical literature describes treatment of postpartum conditions and different gynaecological conditions, such as vaginal discharges and bleeding, and perhaps other “women ailments”, which could be indicated by the section šipir sinništi “treatment(s) for a woman” in line 35 of the “Exor-
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See for instance Abusch 1989; 2002: 14, 66, 85–88; 2007: 150–153; Schwemer 2007: 76, 140. The “female evil”, i.e. (wise and powerful) women as creatures of power, liminality, and otherness that serve as symbols of threats to usurp and destroy society is assesssed by Dignam 2017. E.g. Maqlû 5 9–10; Abusch 2016: 134, 331; Lenzi 2010: 143. For an overview of topics addressed in 2nd and 1st millennia b.c.e. gynaecological therapies, see Steinert 2013: 3. The section pregnancy in the Aššur Medical Catalogue was not concerned exclusively with pregnancy, but with producing offspring in general, and preventing the loss of this offspring, whether born or unborn, throug miscarriage or illness (Steinert 2018b: 269).
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cist’s Manual” kar 44.161 The medical literature further deals with problems involved in heterosexual relationships, such as inducing sexual desire in men and women, to calm down a husband’s anger, and conditions relating to lilû or ardat lilî-demon.162 That the scholarly healers would have needed this knowledge about women is shown in letters from the Neo-Assyrian royal court, which describe that the professional healers indeed treated female patients at the royal court.163 Even though scholars aimed to make this knowledge their own, it has been shown that the knowledge of the female body and conception, gestation, and birth were rooted in the domestic domain and oral tradition. This is further confirmed by the fact that metaphors used for the female body and pregnancy were based on activities connected to daily life (often performed by women, such as pottery), and other domestic elements such as agriculture and animal husbandry.164 That domestic, female healers were preferred and more skilled to provide care concerning these matters seems to have been accepted by the scholarly healers to a certain extent, as the medical literature on occasion references the midwife’s beneficial actions: bam 248 iii 35 states that in case of a difficult birth, šab-šu-tu₄ a-a ik-ka-li e-ri-tu li-šir, “the midwife should not be hindered, may the pregnant woman fare well”.165 It is possible that in some cases, female healers and scholarly, professional healers collaborated. In iconography one can on occasion recognize the proximity and similarity of women healers to male colleagues, for instance in sickbed scenes representing healing rituals in reed structures, where women participated in the healing procedure.166 Because the evidence for scholarly healing practice, besides the reference to evil witches, clearly underlights women, it seems likely that the women who operated with scholarly men 161
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Geller 2018b: 301. See also Steinert (2018a: 187) who raises another possibility, namely that this refers to the material that belongs to the sections pregnancy and birth of the Aššur Medical Catalogue. E.g. Aššur Medical Catalogue sections potency and sex, Steinert 2018b: 208. For an overview of sources on medical texts concerning women and knowledge of the female body, see Heeßel 2000: 18–19, 35–37, 42–43, 66–67, 72; 2006; Stol 2000; Böck 2010; 2013; Scurlock 2014: 245–257; Couto-Ferreira 2013b; 2014; Steinert 2013; 2015; 2016a: 211; 2017a; 2017b; 2018a: 183–184; 2018b: 276, 290–291. saa 16 26 obv. 8–rev. 2; saa 10 200–201; Heeßel 2006: 13; see also the Middle Babylonian medical letters, see Sibbing Plantholt 2014. Steinert 2017a. Variant amt 67, 1 iii 25 (see Von Soden 1957–1958: 119; cad š/1: 16; Heeßel 2006: 12; CoutoFerreira 2014: 307). See also uet 7 123 rev. 6′ (Reiner 1982: 134), a medical text referring to a midwife checking a pregnant woman. See paragraph 5.2.5.
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served in an assistant role. Perhaps they functioned, like women in other time periods and societies, as assistant healers who could be literate and had access to knowledge and authority through texts, but were only allowed to assist, or perhaps perform certain forms of healing.167 The relationship between professional asûs and female healers was less polemic than that between female healers and ašipus. Rather than polarizing, the professional asûs incorporated the qualities of female healers in their own image through the female divine representation Gula to make themselves more attractive to clients. Unlike the authoritative, erudite men of high status represented by Enki/Ea and Marduk/Asalluḫi, Gula was soothing, comforting, merciful, even “motherly”, as expressed in her epithets ummu māti, “mother of the land” and ummu rēmēnītu “merciful mother”.168 This was what a woman was expected to be; but on the other hand, she was a scholar. Gula’s role as a woman mastering scholarly, professional healing violated intuitive expectations since these roles were normally performed by men, and exactly this made her extra attractive, powerful, and memorable.169 Gula’s unexpected female character contributed to her legitimacy, as well as to that of her protégées, the professional asûs. By letting their divine model be female, she became in charge of healing domains traditionally not theirs, and they thereby gained legitimacy. In Gula, the professional asûs were merged with female healers, and thus she embodied what scholarly healers were, as well as what they were not, and what they otherwise never would have been able to claim: the familiarity and wisdom of the wise woman, the female, motherly healer, whose experience with birth, disease, and death made her reach all segments of society. As discussed in paragraph 3.3.1.4, Gula had midwifery traits in the 1st millennium b.c.e.,170 but she was not explicitly called šabšūtu.171 This may be because 167
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See earlier this paragraph; see Flemming 2007 for female iatroi and medici in the GrecoRoman period, and Green 2008 on the male dominion of the medical field through the exlusion of women from the literate community in the Medieval period. In pre-modern England, physicians focused on the non-medical care performed by women and tried to push them into the role of caretaker and nurse. Women were excluded from the literate community and could not presume to perform the functions of the professional healers, but they could work side by side with physicians in the medical marketplace, for instance as the latter’s hands and ears who were not supposed to touch their female patients (Pelling 2003: 189–224; Sumich 2013: 91; see also Green 2008). Paragraph 3.3.1.4. For this process, see Pongratz-Leisten 2015; Panagiotidou 2016 (referring to Boyer 1996, Boyer 2002, and Guthrie 1993); see further Chapter 1. As she did in the earlier periods, which fit her role as goddess of old who represented popular healing, see Part 1. See also Heeßel 2006: 22.
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she was mainly supposed to represent the professional asûs, only indirectly drawing the characteristics of the šabšūtu to her human counterpart. Moreover, from the perspective of the male scholarly healer, this elevated position of female healing knowledge may have been “safe” in the image of Gula. Within their community, the knowledge of women posed a threat, but as embodied by the divine, this threatening female knowledge was carefully placed outside the community.172 Thus, through Gula, professional asûs found a way to pose as female healers and at the same time surpass them. 8.3.3 Gula and the Knife: Gula Incorporating the Art of the gallābus In the 1st millennium b.c.e., Gula developed a distinct iconography in Assyria,173 probably due to her iconography becoming part of the legitimization program of the professional asûs, as whom she is depicted. As stated in paragraph 3.3.1, a new feature of Gula is the medical knife, which is first attested in the 1st millennium b.c.e. and only occurs with Gula. Collon (1994: 44) identified it as a “scalpel” that should be distinguished from the scimitar or sickle-sword because it is “very small, less curved that a sickle-sword, and is not brandished like a weapon but delicately held”. In this work, the more general term “(medical) knife” is used, to avoid connotations that it is straight, razorsharp, thin-bladed, and only used for surgery. About a dozen seals depict Gula with a knife in her raised right hand; in her left hand she usually holds a ring,174 but in a few cases it is her dog’s leash175 or a round or cone-shaped 172
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For this, see Girard 1977: 258; Dignam 2017: 90. As the counterparts of Marduk, the āšipus were not able to (and did not need to) pose as female healers in the way asûs could through Gula, but for instance though the title ša₃-zu of Marduk and the alter-ego Marduk ša rēmi, “Marduk of the womb” (Sommerfeld 1982: 159–160; Stol 2000: 72), āšipus still subtly drew certain qualities to themselves that they normally ascribed to their nemesis, the female healer. See for instance Frankena 1971; Seidl 1971; Ornan 2004; Collon 1994; 2001: 122–126; 2007: 68–69; 2009; Watanabe 1999: 322–323, 326–328, 333–336. Kist 361; canes 694; Lambert 1979: no. 66 (Watanabe 1999: 326 viia 2.1.4 fig. 19); Delaporte bn 358 (pkg 14 273h; Watanabe 1999: 326 viia 2.1.3 fig. 18); nd 1989.334 (Collon 2007: fig. 22; Hussein 2016: 127, pl. 133a); was 5 232 (Collon 1994: no. 4; Watanabe 1999: 335, viib. 7.1.1 fig. 42); was 5 233 (Collon 1994: no. 3; Watanabe 1999: 328 viia 3.1.1 fig. 23); was 5 234 (Ellis 1977: fig. 3; Watanabe 1999: 333 viib 6.1.1 fig. 38; the object in her raised right hand seems to be a knife but the shape had to be altered due to a fault in the stone, see Collon 2001: 123). See also Collon 1994: 43–48; 2001: 122–126; 2007: 68–69; 2009; Watanabe 1999: 322–323, 326–327, 333–334. Delaporte bn 358 and cco 2 A 685 (Ward 1910: 249 fig. 755). For Gula depicted with her dog’s leash, see further for instance was 5 236 (Collon 1994 no. 8, Neo-Babylonian seal, see paragraph 3.3.1) and was 5 237 (Ward 1910 no. 761; Collon 1994: fig. 6; it reads gul-tu, a possible late form of the name Gula, see also Collon 2001: 124); see also Collon 1994: 45; 2009.
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object, which, as discussed in paragraph 8.2, represents a clay tablet.176 This knife could depict a specific instrument, an instrument by which professionals asû could be, or at least wanted to be, recognized. It was probably a naglabu, the instrument of the gallābus, as the professional asûs wanted to be known as the healers who were most skilled with knives and surgical practices. It is often emphasized that ancient Mesopotamian evidence for “surgery”, or medical techniques involving incisions, is scarce.177 Nevertheless, textual as well as archaeological sources provide unequivocal evidence that sharp objects were being used to scrape away tissue or to make incisions through piercing and slitting the body of a patient in order to treat injuries and illness. Cutting into bone and tissue generally served to encourage a free flow of bodily fluids, in particular blood and pus, mostly in the case of inflammations and swellings; skin afflictions could also be treated until blood flowed out.178 This range of procedures could be indicated with a variety of verbs and performed with different objects. The more general term petû, “to open”, was for instance used to refer to opening the skin at a patient’s “4th rib” (ina 4 ti-šu₂) in order to make water and blood flow out.179 The verb petû used in conjunction with a rare verb for “to cut”, namely “sarāmu”, may specifically indicate “to cut through bone”, or as Labat suggested, “to scrape” (“rogner, racler”).180 They occur together in a case of letting out a disease that entered the bone,181 as well as in a unique description of trepanation, i.e. the intentionial opening of an intact skull during the life of an individual.182 ugu 1 190′–197′ describes a sit176
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was 5 238 (Collon 1987: 169 no. 793; 1994: 47 no. 2; Watanabe 1999: 326 viia 2.1.2; Böck 2014: 22); var 655 (Watanabe 1999: 327 viia 2.1.5); Aššur 161, and perhaps pkg 14 273g the seal of Pān-Aššur-lāmur (Watanabe 1999: 321; see paragraph 3.3.1). On the latter, Gula, who stands behind the king on the right side of the image, holds what looks like a stylus in left hand; this could also be a knife, but it is straight and does not look like any of the other knives depicted on seals. She may hold a tablet in her right hand. Note that Gula normally always holds her knife in her raised right hand. Collon (2001: 122) further interprets Parker 1975: no. 52 as a depiction of Gula with a knife and tablet (Parker identifies the goddess as Ištar). E.g. Von Soden 1959: 53–54; Labat 1954: 207–218; Goltz 1974: 88–89; Stol 1989b: 164; Biggs 1995: 1921–1922; Fincke 2000: 294–298; Attinger 2008: 53; Heeßel 2013. See for instance Stol 1989b; 1991–1992: 60; Wasserman 2008: 79; Heeßel 2018: 311–314. This therapeutic withdrawal of blood from a patient can be called “bloodletting” (see for instance Stol 1989b) in the literal sense of the word, but should not be understood as a humoralistic practice, as the concept of humors was not present in ancient Mesopotamia. For cupping, see below. amt 49, 4 rev. 2′–4′ (// bam 39 obv. 3′–4′); Fincke 2000: 295; Stol 2004: 72. Labat 1954: 213; see also Fincke 2000: 296. bad-ma ina ša₃ gir₃-pad-d[u …] bad-te ta-sar-ri-im tu-še-lam-ma, bam 580 iii′ 24′–25′; Labat 1954: 214–216; Fincke 2000: 296 n. 2354. For a discussion of the definition of trepanation, see Pahl 1993: 1–32.
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uation in which water is building up pressure in the skull of a patient, which causes a severe swelling that must be treated by opening (the swelling?), indicated by petû, and then cutting open the skull, indicated by sarāmu, so the fluids are let out.183 Body parts such as the eyes, temples, and testicles could be pierced (takāpu, “to prick”) or incised (maḫāṣu, which literally means “to hit”), for which a small bronze sickle ([urudu]kin-tur[zabar], quppû in Akkadian),184 a needle (gišdala₂/ ṣillû), or a reed (gi/qanû) could be used.185 The temple could furthermore be cut (kud/nakāsu) with a bronze knife (gir₂zabar), a procedure applied when a patient’s eyes were filled with blood and this caused the inability to sleep and loss of vision.186 This practice of cutting the temples is also recorded in the Laws of Hammurabi §§215, 218 and 220. These paragraphs document the reward for an asû for the opening (petû) of the temple of a patient with a
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bad-ma gul-gul-la-šu₂ te-ser-rim a ša₂ gul-gul-li-šu₂ t[u-še-lam-ma], ugu 1 lines 191′–192′ (bam 480 iii 58–59 and parallels); Campbell Thompson 1937: 234–235; Labat 1954: 212–213; Fincke 2000: 295–296; 2011: 161 n. 11; Stol 2004: 75–76; Worthington 2005: 13, 21, 29–31 (who follows Campbell Thompson’s reading te-ser lagab for te-ser-rim). A uncertain yet curious reference to trepanation is kal 1 10 obv. 13′: [sag-du-su u₂-ḫar-ra-a]r (with parallels in Freedman 2006a: 150 [bm 129092] lines 1–2, 155; Maul 1994: 293), which can be interpreted as “he cuts/makes a hole in his head”. The purpose of this hole in the head would be to let the snake, who looked at the victim with his evil eye, crawl out of the head and return to his own hole (Pientka-Hinz 2010: 173–174). SpBTU 3 111 obv. ii 19; Urra = ḫubullu 11 section 3, 190 (see the Digital Corpus of Cuneiform Lexical Texts on oracc, ⟨oracc.museum.upenn.edu/dcclt/akk#Q000086.425⟩, visited on 2 January 2020); Urra = ḫubullu 12 Seg. 1, 72 (see the Digital Corpus of Cuneiform Lexical Texts on oracc ⟨oracc.museum.upenn.edu/dcclt/akk#Q000087.68⟩, visited on 2 January 2020). This knife was used in healing, but also could be used to inflict wounds, see cad q: 311–312. Perhaps it can be compared to the Akkadian gir₂-turzabar/uṣultu, “small knife”, Stol 1989b: 164; msl 7 161 (Urra = ḫubullu 12 47); cad u: 290. E.g. bam 7 9 i iv 19′; ct 23 41: 19; bam 482 i 64′; bam 515 ii 3, iii 35′ (igi 2 105′, 166′; Geller and Panayotov 2020: 133, 144, 223); see also Fincke 2000: 297–298. Fincke (2000: 298) postulates that the piercing of the eyes was not applied to the patient but to a substitute as part of a ritual procedure. It has been suggested that bam 482 i 64′ describes a form of cupping, a mild form of bloodletting, performed with a si parri, “horn of a young sheep” (Campbell Thompson 1938: 18 n. 168; Stol 1989b: 164; see also AhW: 834); however, Fincke (2000: 297 n. 2364) suggests to read the instrument as si-pa-ri, “a bronze (needle)”. Note further the lexical entry gi-du₃-a is for maḫāṣu ša dāme, “hitting of blood” (msl 16 181 [Nabnītu 20 [= 21] line 41]; Stol 1989b: 164). In stt 179 rev. 48, Nintinuga “may prick him (in the eye?) with a reed” ina ⸢qa⸣-ne₂-e lis-hi-il-šu₂, see paragraph 4.4. For takāpu and maḫāṣu, see Stol 1989b: 164; 1991–1992: 59–60; for a kin-turzabar used for maḫāṣu, see stt 89: 155–156, Stol 1989b: 164; Buisson 2006: 187; Wasserman 2008: 79. ⸢ina gir₂⸣z[ab]ar ⸢kud⸣ sik₂-ḫ[e₂-me-d]a sik₂-babbar nu-nu nigin-mi tara-kas sag-kiII-šu₂ ⸢ki⸣-lat-⸢tan⸣ [lal₂], bm 54641+ obv. 8′, 11′–12′, Fincke 2009: 82–92.
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gir₂-gag(zal)zabar/karṣillu, a bronze knife, and consequently healing the eye, as well as the punishment when an asû failed and the patient went blind. This procedure of cutting clearly affects the eye, and medical texts show that the opening of temples was indeed applied in the case of eye afflictions.187 The gir₂-gag(zal)/karṣillu is associated with the bulug-kin-gur₄zabar, Akkadian marṣadu, in literature referred to as “the claws of Ninisina”.188 The latter may be identical to the masdaru-knife, perhaps gir₂-sunzabar in Sumerian.189 Other knives that were used in medical texts concerning eyes are the na₄gir₂-zu₂gal/na₄zu₂, Akkadian ṣurru, a sharp obsidian blade that could be used to make incisions,190 and the (gir₂-)šu-i/naglabu, the knife of the šu-i/gallābu, which also was used to scrape or cut the skin.191 Sharp instruments specifically mentioned in medical contexts are further the bulug, perhaps a chisel, drill or hook,192 and perhaps pincers.193 That these different instruments could be used for specific therapeutic procedures is well illustrated by bm 103386, a tablet containing 38 prescriptions for treating lamṣatu, a type of haemorrhoid.194 It demonstrates that an external lamṣatu would be scraped away (kâru, literally “to rub”) as well as “slit” ([n]eṣû) with a pointy and sharp ṣurru to let blood flow out.195 On the other hand, a perhaps prolapsing, internal lamṣatu would be cut off (qatāpu) or torn
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Fincke 2000: 294–295. Urra = ḫubullu 11 431 (msl 7 148; Veldhuis 2017: 373); Iddin-Dagan D line 8 (etcsl 2.5.3.4); Ninisina A line 10 (etcsl 4.22.1). The equasion with marṣadu is evidenced in Old Babylonian bilingual Urra = ḫubullu exemplar bm 85983 rev. iii 1, Veldhuis 2017: 373. The marṣadu further has the Sumerian equivalents kin-gurum-mezabar (SpBTU 3 111 obv. ii 21) and perhaps [urudukin-gurum]-ma (W23830d, Cavigneaux 1979: 128–129; Veldhuis 2017: 373). Veldhuis 2017: 373 suggests that the word marṣadu may be identical with masdaru. gir₂-sunsu-un zabar = mas-da-ru, msl 12 162 (Urra = ḫubullu 12 51). From lugale lines 543–553 (etcsl 1.6.2) it is known that na₄gir₂-zu₂-gal/ṣurru can be sharpened by flaking, i.e. flint or obsidian; since it can be white, green and black in color, it is assumed to be obsidian (cad ṣ: 259). For obsidian (ṣurru) and knives made out of it, see Moorey 1999: 63–71. bam 580 iii 17′ (see below); see also bam 515 iv 5, 7 (igi 2 201′, 203′, Geller and Panayotov 2020: 148); Fincke 2000: 208; 297. According to Waetzoldt (1995: 117), bulug₄ is a general term to designate sharp-pointed instruments. See also Molina and Such-Gutiérrez 2004: 2 for the bulug being used to cut the nostrils or put a small hook-shaped instrument in the nose of a fugitive. For the connection between Ninisina and bulug, see Ninisina D line 13, Sjöberg 1982: 64–67; etcsl 4.22.4. For pincers, see below. In a list of medical objects for asûs from Ebla, ma-ša-wa are listed, which is translated as “pincers” based on the dual -a (Archi 1995: 10; see alternatively D’Agostino 2003: 147–148). Heeßel 2018. bm 103386 obv. 23′–24′, Heeßel 2018: 311–312, 319, 325–236.
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out (nasāḫu) with a masdaru, which might have been suitable for this procedure due to its shape.196 Consequently, the textual evidence suggests that incisions were made for cutting both skin and bone, including the skull, in particular to drain fluids and relieve intracranial pressure. Archaeological evidence can corroborate the practice of cutting skulls. From the several cases of trepanation that have been found throughout the ancient Near East, including Tuttul and Old-Assyrian kārums Kültepe/Kaneš and Açemhöyük,197 it can be concluded that trepanation was an intervention to treat cranial trauma, tumors and infections. It may also have been used in case of ailments that are difficult to identify in the skeletal remains, such as headache, epilepsy, and mental illnesses.198 It further shows that trepanation indeed could be conducted through gradually scraping away bone tissue until a perforation occurred, as may be indicated with sarāmu; other techniques include drilling, filing, chiselling, circular/ovoid or angular cutting or sawing, or a combination of these methods.199 There is hardly any archaeological evidence for trepanation from the Mesopotamian heartland,200 but a case of drilling found at Isin confirms that this practice indeed was performed here. A skeleton of a ca. 40 year old man dating to the early 1st millennium b.c.e. was buried near the dog burials and the ramp that seems to belong
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bm 103386 obv. 26′, 46′, rev. 33, Heeßel 2018: 311–314, 319, 321, 324, 332. Wolska 1994; Açıkkol et al. 2009; Erdal and Erdal 2011. For trepanations in the ancient Near East including Anatolia, Syria, the Levant, Iran and Egypt, see Arensburg and Hershkovitz 1988; Pahl 1993; Krafeld-Daughterty 2002; Thillaud 2006; Erdal and Erdal 2011. Two cases in Tuttul (Tell Biʾa) were found, one of which is an incomplete rectangular trepanation on a child; in both cases, the patient survived the treatment (Wolska 1994). Studies conducted in ancient Egypt and Anatolia as well as South America show that more than half of the patients who underwent trepanation survived the treatment, and some lived until long after the treatment (Pahl 1993: 333–362; Erdal and Erdal 2011: 526–527; see also Krafeld-Daughterty 2002: 253). Although it has been suggested that there is a religious and ritualistic motive for trepanation (e.g. Lisowski 1967; Alt et al. 1997; Erdal and Erdal 2011: 524 [with references to ritual or religious trepanation in other periods and regions]), the studies conducted on skeletal remains indicate that the main reason for trepanation in the ancient world was therapeutic (Erdal and Erdal 2011: 519–520; see also Pahl 1993: 1–32). For an overview see Erdal and Erdal 2011: 519–524. For a potential treatment of infantile scurvy with trepanation, see Mogle and Zias 1995. E.g. Lisowski 1967; Pahl 1993: 21–27; Wolska 1994; Erdal and Erdal 2011. See also Fincke 2000: 297. There is a correlation between technique and survival rate: long term healing probability is highest in the case of scraping, whereas rectangular cutting and boring-and cutting was rarely successful (Erdal and Erdal 2011: 526–527). This may be due to the lack of (usable) physical anthropological data from this area, and paleopathological studies are rarely conducted on the available material (Pahl 1993: 318).
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to the Ninisina/Gula temple (see paragraph 3.2.1.3); his skull was perforated at least four times with a drill, leaving small holes with a diameter of 4–5 mm.201 Other archaeological evidence that has been mentioned as proof of surgical practice in Mesopotamia are more than a dozen instruments found at Babylon that may have served a medical purpose. They consist of a long hook, two needles, objects that have been labeled spoons, probes (one with mirror), and a broken chisel, and bone objects with sharp edges that are identified as either spatulas or scalpels, as they potentially could have been used for cutting and/or scraping.202 Although it is possible that these instruments were used for medical procedures, this assumption remains speculative; they could just as well have been cosmetic or workman’s tools.203 If this is indeed a set of surgical instruments, it is remarkable that the group does not include objects that clearly can be identified as knives, and certainly not as any of the knives discussed here, or that look like the knife depicted with Gula on Neo-Assyrian seals. The different types of cutting mentioned in the texts in conjunction with the multiple ways one can make an opening in the skin or skull suggest that many instruments were used by healers. For scraping bone, one needed an abrasive instrument; for slitting or scraping tissue, a thin and sharp instrument; for piercing, needles; and for drilling, a drill or incisive instrument. It is conceivable that healers had preferences for and experience different techniques and instruments, which then would be a way for healers to distinguish themselves.204 As mentioned in Chapter 5, healers skilled with knives could have been cooks (muḫaldim/nuḫatimmu), but most visibly, asûs and gallābus,
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Grave 100, see Ziegelmayer in Hrouda 1981: 108–109 with plates 39, 2 and 41, 4–6; see also Haussperger 1997: 205–206; Ziegelmayer and Parsche 1984: 234–235; Pahl 1993: 319–320. Ziegelmayer assumed that these were applied postmortem and if not, the man did not survive the treatment. Pahl (1993: 319) stresses that the postmortem application cannot be proven, and thus that this should be considered a case of (intra vitam) trepanation (see also Pahl 1993: 15). It is further possible that trepanation performed on deceased patients served to train healers or allowed them to experiment with trepanning (Erdal and Erdal 2011: 524–526). Perhaps the gir₂-sal-za = zi-zi-ib₂-dum “stone knife”, served as a drill. For stone used for drilling, see Heimpel, Gorelick and Gwinnett 1988; for drills and drill-bits in Mesopotamia (usually for the production of vessels), see Moorey 1999: 56–58, 82. For the identification of the objects as surgical, see Sternitzke in Marzahn and Schauerte 2008: 425–427; Sternitzke 2012: 649–666; see further Heeßel 2008: 413–414 (with fig. 302); Wasserman: 2008: 81; Böck 2014: 20; see also Stol 1989b: 164. Salazar 2000: 237–239, who discusses similar difficulties in identifying Greco-Roman objects as surgical instruments; see also Baker 2013: 91–94. In the context of trepanation, different techniques seem to have been preferred in certain areas and time periods, see Erdal and Erdal 2011.
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“barbers, hairdressers”. As the sources for these different cutting practices are mostly scholarly medical texts, there was a scholarly interest in all of these, and scholarly, professional healers at least claimed to perform them—in particular asûs, as this was predominantly the focus of asûtu.205 The desire for the scholars to take on many different techniques reflects a potential point of friction between the practices of scholarly asûs and healers like the gallābus, who had a clear association with an instrument: the (gir₂-)šu-i/naglabu, “knife of the gallābu”.206 As discussed in Chapter 5, treatments by asûs and the gallābus intersected. Although gallābus did not make it to the exclusive circle of scholars, they could hold high positions in official circles and at the royal court, and must have enjoyed the king’s trust. As both being healers with knives, this may have been an area where these two occupations overlapped and experienced competition. Remarkably, among the different medical knives, not one has the trade of asû incorporated in the name. At most, knives are directly linked to the practice of asûs, or specifically labeled as instrument of asûs, namely the quppû ša asî, “quppû of the asû”, which occurs in a lexical text.207 A knife used by asûs that is only sparingly mentioned was the karṣillu: as previously mentioned, it was deemed an instrument of asûs in the Laws of Hammurabi §§ 215, 218 and 220.208 The gir₂-šu-i/naglabu, was already associated with asûs in the 3rd millennium b.c.e., as demonstrated by an administrative text from Ebla that lists the (gir₂-)šu-i as an instruments of asûs.209 As the tool of the barber, the gir₂šu-i/naglabu must have been a sort of shaving instrument or razor with which one can shave and cut hair. It must have been sharp, and was used for medical procedures, for instance on the eye; like the ṣurru, it can probably be used for “slitting” (neṣû).210 Such medical actions were probably also performed by gallābus, who were proven to be involved in healing; moreover, the cutting and shaving of hair indicated with the verb gullubu is common in medical texts.211
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See for instance the series igi, for which most recently Geller and Panayotov 2020. For the naglabu (here written as na-ag-na-bi) as tool of the gallābus (dumu-meš šu-i-meš) that is deposited by them before Ištar in a ritual, see Dossin 1938: 2 i 19 (see also cad g: 15). min [= qu-up-pu₂] ša₂ a-zu, K 4578 obv. i′ 11′ (msl 7 172). See paragraph 6.3.1; see further amt 9, 2: 4′, written syllabically; cak k: 240. For these paragraphs in the Laws of Hammurabi, see Hirsch 1967: 329. tm.75.G.10074 obv. xvii 39; Archi 1995: 10. For other instruments of asûs, see tm.75.G.10074 obv. xvii 31–41 as well as mee 12 37 (tm.75.G.2508) obv. xix 4–17, Archi 1995: 10; see also Waetzoldt 1995: 102; Maul 2001: 7; D’Agostino 2003; Heeßel 2008: 413. bam 580 iii 17′ (gig ša-tu ina na-ag-la-bi te-ne2-[eṣ-ṣi]); see also above. Paragraph 5.2.4.
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Because the gallābus were probably particularly skilled in handling the naglabu and performing treatment with it, professional asûs may have competed with them on that aspect. Making it the instrument of Gula would have been a strategy to convince clients that they were extraordinarily skilled at handling the instrument of their competitors. Because the naglabu has the strongest, clearest, and longest tradition of being perceived as the knife of Gula as well as asûs, it is most likely that the naglabu is the knife that Gula holds on seals. It was probably not the masdaru; this rarely mentioned knife played an important role in medicine, for the treatment of, for instance, haemorrhoids (lamṣatu) and may be related to cauterization,212 but it does not seem the most prominent instrument of Gula, nor the asûs. It is only on one, maybe two occasions attributed to her, namely ctn 4 116 rev. 21′213 and perhaps the Gula Hymn of Bulluṭsa-rabi line 82, if this indeed should read mas-da-ru ša₂ ša₂-la-mu here instead of maš-ṭa-ru ša₂ ša₂-la-mu, but this seems less likely.214 Besides the fact that Gula as asût ilāni rabûti handles the knife in ctn 4 116 rev. 20′–21′, this knife is not clearly linked to asûs. Because the knife on Gula’s seals is sickle-shaped, the quppû, a knife used by asûs, should be considered, but this knife is only attibuted to her in the Gula Hymn of Bulluṭsa-rabi.215 The karṣillu is strongly associated with asûs because of the Laws of Hammurabi, and is called a knife of Gula twice in medical context, and in the Göttertypentext, Damu, as an attribute of Gula, holds the karṣillu.216 The naglabu and ṣurru had already been perceived as instruments belonging to Gula from the early 2nd millennium b.c.e. on, as an Old Babylonian incantation to ward off illness (maškadu) contains the phrase
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In the unpublished text K 6057+ ii 22–23 one reads [a]-⸢a⸣ iṭ-ḫi-ka nak-mu-⸢u₂⸣ [a]-⸢a iṭ⸣-ḫika mas-da-ra [ ] “may the nakmû not come near you, may the masdaru not come near you!” (see Böck 2014: 19; Geller and Panayotov 2020: 303; a picture of K 6057+ is published on the cdli website https://cdli.ucla.edu/dl/photo/P396340.jpg visited on January 10, 2020); nakmû, which seems to be mentioned as an instrument carried by asûs in The Poor Man of Nippur line 117, may be an instrument for cauterization (Stol 1997: 409; 2007b: 238; see also Böck 2014: 19). See Stol 2007b: 238 and Heeßel 2018 for the rare occurrence of masdaru. Geller 2000: 336–338 (Geller reads this as mašṭaru; masdaru is not preserved on parallel text bam 580 ii′ 17′). This possibility has been suggested by Stol 2007b: 238, see paragraph 8.2. Gula Hymn of Bulluṭsa-rabi line 180; Lambert 1967b: 128–129 and George and Taniguchi 2019: no. 59 (nag-l[a-b]i qup-pa-a). Karṣillu is called a knife of Gula in ctn 4 116 rev. 21′ (= bam 580 ii′ 17′, Geller 2000: 336–338). In the Göttertypentext, it is the knife of Damu, who is an attribute of Gula (Köcher 1953: 64 i 12′; Wiggermann 2018: 360–361, 366–368). Ninisina handles the Sumerian equivalent gir₂-gag(zal) in Iddin-Dagan D line 8 (etcsl 2.5.3.4) and Ninisina A line 11 (see Römer 1969: 287; 2001: 122).
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lāma ikšudūka ṣurru naglabu [ša] Gula, “(illness, be gone) before the ṣurru and the naglabu of Gula have reached you!”.217 A similar phrase is also used in 1st millennium b.c.e. incantations against maškadu or to remove foreign objects from the eye.218 One of them also draws a clear line between the healer and Gula in the phrase Gula bēlet asûti iddīma anāku ašši, “Oh Gula, the mistress of the asûtu, cast (a spell) and I carried (it) out”,219 which labels these knives as instruments of scholars. The naglabu is further mentioned in the Gula Hymn of Bulluṭsa-rabi, together with the above-mentioned quppû, as an instrument of Gula (named Ninlil), who is called the bēltu ša balāṭi, “mistress of life”, in this paragraph.220 The naglabu thus the knife that is most closely associated with both professional asûs and Gula in 1st millennium b.c.e. texts, which makes it conceivable that this is the knife she was depicted with on seals. If this is indeed the case, then professional asûs ostentatiously took on gallābu’s responsibilities that normally were performed by gallābus through the portrayal of Gula (and thus asû) as the mistress of the naglabu, and with that, the skills of gallābus. Moreover, giving the knife, of which patients may have been afraid,221 divine powers and allure, it could have made it and the procedures performed with it, more attractive when performed by professional asûs. 217 218
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yos 11 14 rev. 5 (ṣu₂-ur-ru na-ag-la-⸢bu [ša?] d⸣gu-la), see also paragraph 3.1.3. bam 7 45 rev. 14′–15′ ([lam i]k-šu-du-nik-ka na₄zu₂ u ⸢gir₂-šu-i⸣[ša₂ dgu]-la); bam 510 iv 37–38 (la-am ik-šu-du-ki-na-ši ṣur-ru nag-la-bu ša₂ dgu-la) = bam 514 iv 42′–43′ (la-am ik-šu-du-kina-ši ṣur-ru u nag-la-bu [ša dgu]-⸢la⸣ = igi 1 190′-191′, Geller and Panayotov 2020: 104–105); see Landsberger 1958: 58; Geller 1984: 296; Fincke 2000: 208, 297; Böck 2014: 19; Panayotov 2017: 225–226. dgu-la ⸢en⸣ [a]-zu-ti i-di-ma ana-ku aš₂-ši, bam 510 iv 39 (igi 1 192′ [see also parallel bam 514 iv 44], Geller and Panayotov 2020: 104–105). for this type of spell, see Lambert 2008: 93. See also Panayotov 2018: 90 n. 6 and paragraph 8.2. Gula Hymn of Bulluṭsa-rabi lines 180–187, Lambert 1967b: 128–129; see also George and Taniguchi 2019: no. 59 (line 180, nag-l[a-b]i qup-pa-a). In Iddin-Dagan D (etcsl 2.5.3.4) lines 6–9, the knives of Ninisina instil ni₂, “fear” (or awe?), see paragraph 4.2.1.2.
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Conclusion and Suggestions for Future Research The present study has focused on the social history of Mesopotamian medicine, an aspect of Mesopotamian medicine that so far has not often been studied. It explored healer-patient relationships and the tension between different healers, and how this resulted in the need for certain healers, especially professional asûs, to legitimize themselves. It applied the term “medical marketplace” to Mesopotamia as a model in conjunction with Arthur Kleinman’s three health care sectors—the lay, folk and professional sectors—in order to examine the dynamics between patient and healer and the various healing options available to patients. The application of these models to the Mesopotamian record has led to the conclusion that the general Mesopotamian population had access to many health care providers, among whom were asûs. This study delineates and traces the development of the generic term asû from an occupation that was rooted in the domestic domain and could be performed by anyone, to a title that was also claimed by a small group of esoteric, highly educated healers, i.e. scholarly, professional asûs, who wanted to identify themselves as able, learned healers who could channel divine healing. Although the emergence of healers working for the state and king is already recognizable during the time of the development of early city states, institutionalized scholarly healers who protected their office and knowledge became more established during the Middle Babylonian period, a time of geographical consolidation and unification of a kingdom in which scholarship was well developed and connected to the king. Asûs who belonged to these scholars became a select group of healers who participated in social closure and presented their art as learned, secretive, and divinely inspired. These asûs can be called “professional asûs”. By examining how these professional asûs distinguished themselves from other healers, including non-scholarly, non-professional asûs, it has become clear that they sought systematic legitimation by posing as the human parallel to the female divine healing agent Gula from the Middle Babylonian period on. This permitted them to justify their social position, authority, and medical treatment in relationships with patients and other health care workers. The diachronic development of the professional asûs went hand in hand with the development of the goddess Gula who, as demonstrated in Part 1, was the healing goddess with the strongest connection to asûs. Gula evolved from a domestic healing goddess invoked by the masses to a divine model of legitimization for professional asûs from the Middle Babylonian period on. She
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materialized the office of professional asûs in text and image in a way that people could not miss their obvious connection, for instance by letting Gula bear the official title of asû and work with the instruments and medications of the professional asûs. The characteristics of Gula stated explicitly in texts, for instance being qualified and able to heal, to soothe, to comfort, and to be knowledgeable, were all subsequently connected with the asû. Cross-cultural research shows that similar processes are detectable in other societies as well, such as early modern England, where physicians trained by the Royal College of Physicians were in competition with a wide range of healers. In order to stand out, they justified their practice and fees to potential patients by emphasizing (including the use of shared titles and epithets, and the application of medical metaphors to Christ) that they had exclusive and legitimate healing abilities because only they were the true heirs of Christ’s healing powers. This tension between different kinds of healers and the legitimization of scholarly healers can be demonstrated in a wide range of times and places, and the possible universality of these themes requires further extensive research. At least it can be established that they are as old as the medical art, and still can be seen in the modern western world. Medical specialists claim legitimacy based on their titles and education through which they set themselves apart from other health care workers. They possess “secret” healing knowledge that can only be obtained through thorough medical training, and they instill trust in their patients through their degrees, and thus in a way patronage, from medical schools of renowned academic institutions. Physicians proudly display their medical diplomas on the walls of their offices, which is the same kind of iconification of a healer’s supreme qualifications as a professional asû’s portrayal of himself as an able healer through Gula.1 This work has further called attention to the medical marketplace at large and the different forms of healing performed in it, the relationships between healers, their patients, and other health care workers, and the social history of Mesopotamian medicine in general. It provides a basis for future research on forms of healing outside the medical texts and professional or scholarly healers. The analysis of a wide range of sources conducted in Part 1 has shown that the various healing goddesses had distinct origins and functions, and redefines the understanding of the individual healing goddesses and the relationship between them and with human healers. This study focused on the relationship between Gula and asûs; future research could be conducted on representations of other forms of healing in the divine realm, such as the role of Damu, who through his male gender had a different relationship to healers than Gula. In 1 This assertion is not an attempt to undermine the legitimacy and capability of modern physicians, nor the need for them.
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addition, the study of the relationship between deities in incantations, in particular those to whom the incantation belongs and those who cast it, could lead to interesting new insights with regards to different divine healing roles and healing categories. This may shed light on the involvement of Ningirima with healing, and also the relationship between Gula and Ninkarrak, whose incantation categories seem very similarly rooted in the domestic domain. This study would not have been possible if it was not for interdisciplinary research. Through applying models and terminology used in other disciplines, such as Roy Porter’s medical marketplace and Kleinman’s health care system model, to Assyriology, the latter becomes relatable to other disciplines, in particular those involved with the medical humanities. The interdisciplinary reflection on relationships between professional healers and other health care workers and their clientele in societies across time and space lays bare the relevance of medicine in the Mesopotamian world to a wider geographical realm, from societies that are geographically and temporally close, like the GrecoRoman world, to much more remote societies, like the modern Western world. Although ancient Mesopotamian medicine differs in some fundamental ways from modern Western medical thought, for instance in the lack of a Cartesian mind-body dualism or germ theory, this work shows that it is a common misconception that the medicine practiced before the Greco-Roman period is not relevant to the study of modern medicine. There is little evidence for a “technological advancement” in Mesopotamian medical practice that relates to how modern Western medicine is practiced today, but one can nevertheless recognize common themes, such as the dynamics between different medical professions and the necessity for legitimization, the tension in the medical marketplace caused by medical pluralism, and male-female power relations. As mentioned multiple times throughout this work, governmental superstructures historically have had little influence over domestic life and habits, but an effective way to change the population’s idea of disease and healing is through medicalization, i.e. the process by which non-medical issues become defined as medical problems. The sociologist Irving Zola (1972) recognized that, especially in the 2nd half of the 20th century c.e., medicalization became a powerful institution of control since it can influence many aspects of daily life under the pretence of maintaining good health. Lock and Nguyen (2018: 67) state that the process of medicalization and medical professionalization may have taken place “hundreds of years before Zola’s observations, from the time that one or two people were first recognized as healers among certain human groups”. They refer to the first medicalization and professionalization of European and Asian healers from 250 b.c.e. onwards. However, the result of this research is that medical professionalization and the attempt by professional or scholarly healers to monopolize certain practices took place more than a thousand
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years before that in ancient Mesopotamia. This conclusion facilitates a critical approach to and a new interpretation of current medical practice and professions. The case study from Mesopotamia speaks to other societies, including our own. It serves as what historian Barbara Tuchman (1978) called a “distant mirror”, which confronts us with a familiar yet different, and therefore thoughtprovoking, reflection of present-day medicine and society. An example of how such a distant mirror can provide new and relevant insight in current issues is the reflection of the possibly universal tension between professional, institutionalized healers and lay and folk healers. Biomedicine dominates the medical market in the modern world and is often seen as the only viable healing option. This lens has influenced modern scholarship of the ancient Near East as well, and it causes scholars to look for a specific type of healer, the rational physician (asû), and his “medicine man” or shaman-like counterpart, the religious incantation priest (āšipu). Other types of healers and the possibility that the term asû and āšipu referred to a wide range of healers operating in all healing sectors (as we have seen with the asû in Part 2) are rarely considered. This is a limiting view: medical pluralism was undeniably present in Mesopotamia, and looking at forms of healing not represented by the scholarly elite can lead to important new insights. Although medical pluralism is not always recognized, it is still very much present, even in the modern Western world. Lock and Nguyen (2018: 55) state that “nowhere has indigenous medicine simply faded away”. To this day, people commonly maintain a pluralistic approach towards healing and illness, and patients often decide to rely on alternative forms of healing and visit local healers, even when that costs more than a visit to a professional healer trained in and performing biomedicine. This choice is influenced by a patient’s economic and social status, the accessibility of health care, and domestic religious beliefs about certain healers and the cause or cure of the illness.2 The acceptance of medical diversity and the fact that understanding the sociocultural landscape of a patient is essential for the success of introducing biomedical knowledge and technology would be beneficial to patients as well as the various healers they had access to. It could lead to fruitful healing collaborations, as can for instance been learned from cross-cultural interaction between the local community, folk healers, and biomedical health care workers in non-Western countries in treating aids and cancer.3 Another aspect of Mesopotamian medicine discussed in this work that reflects a current issue is the male dominance of medical professionalization 2 See for instance Kleinman 1980; Lock and Nguyen 2018. 3 McMillen 2004; Kayumbo et al. 2007; Merriam and Muhamad 2012; Adar 2013.
conclusion and suggestions for future research
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and institutionalization, and the marginalization of women in health care. Of particular interest are references to conflict between, and the juxtaposition of, female and male healers in Mesopotamian literature, as seen for instance in the intellectual battle between the “wise woman” and the male scholarly healer in folklore, and the representation of women as witches who worked against the divine-inspired professional, hegemonic healers in medical literature. The fact that scholarly, professional healers explicitly placed themselves in direct opposition to women healers suggests that the latter played a significant role in medical practice. Cross-cultural anthropological studies of women as healers support this notion. As discussed in this work, women generally have a prominent role in healing, especially in the domestic lay and folk context.4 Although Mesopotamian scholars presented an image of male monopoly over medical practice, women were also active in the healing sphere. This indicates that women collaborated with male scholars and performed similar functions to them, and that they did not strictly conform to traditional gender roles. The exact interactions between male and female healers require more extensive research. Comparison to the female healers in, for instance, the Greco-Roman, medieval and (early) modern periods will undoubtedly lead to greater insight into the role, status and clientele of these women. Moreover, these gender issues in the 21st century b.c.e. speak to gender gaps and bias in the medical education and profession, antagonism between obstetricians and midwives, and the dominance of biomedicine over other healing traditions in the periods leading up to the 21st century c.e. The medicalization of childbirth in the United States has led to tension between obstetrician-gynaecologists and nurse-midwives, one already detectable in the diaries of Martha Ballard, a midwife in 17th century c.e. New England.5 The collaboration between the two groups of health care providers in a San Francisco hospital over the last few decades has proven to lead to high-quality care to women and their families.6 This model of exchanging expertise and joining healing forces in a respectful and balanced way is a promising example to other health care settings in which such partnerships could be fruitful to both healers and patients. This research aims to contribute to these current issues, as well as to the understanding of these issues in other places and time periods, in two ways. First, by demonstrating that tensions in the medical marketplace and the need for legitimization are as old as the first appearance of professional health care. Its emergence can be traced back to when the first medical titles were written 4 See also Clarke and Olesen 1999. 5 Thatcher Ulrich 1990. 6 Hutchison et al. 2011.
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down in the 3rd millennium b.c.e. From its very first traces in human history medicine has been heavily influenced by socio-political processes. The understanding of medical practice in Mesopotamian culture that is presented in this work is thus relevant and valuable to the general grasp of our shared humanity and medicine. Moreover, these common denominators of legitimacy and tension caused by medical plurality make it possible for the modern scholar to think critically about the way medicine is practiced nowadays. Ideally, a discussion will be opened about the professional and social (re)acceptance of other forms of health care for patients in the modern day. And second, by providing a distant, critical reflection of current issues, this work fosters an innovative discussion on controversial topics such as gender inequality in medicine and the professional and social (re)acceptance of multiple forms of health care that coexist in main stream healthcare. Through this, it contributes to interdisciplinary collaboration in Medical Humanities aimed at improving health care by creating a practical foundation for new interpretations and analytical reviews of modern medical practice.
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Temple Names “Abu Temple” 35 Eanna 87, 201 Ebabbar 236, 241 Egalmaḫ 54–55, 57, 66, 68–69, 75, 85–86, 89–90, 115, 123, 125–128, 136 Egula 44, 86, 88–89, 121 Eḫursagkuga 85 Eḫursagsikila 85, 120–121 Ekašbar 66 Ekur 49, 66, 91, 94, 117, 126, 147 Emupada (e₂-mu-pa₃-da) 71–72 Enamtila (e₂-nam-ti-la) 90 Enidubbu 126, 147 Erabriri 85, 89 Esabad (e₂-sa-bad) 57, 71, 85–86, 89–91, 117, 120, 127, 131, 240 Esagil 35–37, 85, 89, 178
Esikila (e2-sikil-la2) 39, 41 Ešarra 49, 66 Ešumeša 65–66, 139, 151 Etarsirsir 139 Etila (e₂-ti-la) 86, 88–90, 121 Eulla 56, 85–86, 121 Eunamtila (e₂-u₂-nam-ti-la) 90 Eurgira (e₂-ur-gi₇-ra) 45–46, 71, 134 Eʾurusagga 66 Euzu (e₂-u₂-zu) 89 Ezi(da)batila (e₂-zi-ba-ti-la) 86, 88–89, 121 Ganun 39 Usu (u₂-su) 89
Selected Akkadian Terms agugiltu 191 alaḫḫennu 134 apkallu 198, 254–255, 277, 286 asâtu (asûtu; female healer) 59, 97, 157, 218, 272, 294, 296, 309 asû 1–7, 9, 14, 17, 24, 34, 45, 58–62, 77–78, 80–81, 92–93, 95, 97–105, 117–118, 121– 122, 125, 127–128, 130–132, 134, 136–138, 141–142, 144–145, 147–149, 151, 153, 156157-161, 166, 169–172, 174, 184–185, 188, 193, 195–196, 202, 204–205, 208–245, 249, 251, 253, 255, 258, 260–262, 267– 270, 272–277, 279–287, 291–294, 296, 303–305, 308, 310–312, 314 asû bīt têrtim 224, 227 asû ša bētānu 229, 276 asûtu (art of healing) 4, 59, 79, 97, 100–101, 122, 125, 129–130, 157, 179, 188, 196, 206– 207, 212, 214, 223, 231–233, 242, 267, 272–273, 277, 278, 280–282, 285, 287, 291, 292, 294, 299, 308, 310 āšipu 2–3, 5, 17, 94, 101–102, 115, 129, 138, 166, 173, 175–176, 186, 191–192, 196, 202, 205– 206, 208, 220, 222, 225–227, 236, 241, 253, 258, 269, 275–276, 282–283, 285, 286, 287–290, 294, 298, 314 āšipūtu 102, 115, 130, 196, 206–207, 212, 241– 242, 257–259, 262, 285–286, 292, 299 aštābīru 296 azugallatu 72, 77–78, 80, 86, 89, 92–95, 97– 100, 105, 136, 137, 153, 156–157, 160–161, 218 azugallūtu 98, 279 bārītu 191, 203 bārû 113, 119, 137–138, 191, 196, 202–205, 222, 223, 225, 228, 238, 240, 275, 284, 287 bārûtu 72, 179, 188, 196, 204, 223, 292 bulṭū 98, 101, 206, 279–280, 285, 286, 292, 297 emqu 253–254, 281 enqūtu 281 eššebūtu 191
gallābu 184–189, 215, 226, 283, 291, 302–303, 305, 307–310 gallābūtu 179, 188 garābu (garbanūtu) 186–187 gullubu 308 ḫakāmu 227 ḫarimtu 109, 190 ḫassu 252–254 ištarītu 191 karṣillu 97, 109, 222, 305, 308–309 kâru 305 kašāru/kešēru 171 kaššaptu 299 katimtu 199 kizûtu 214–215 kulmašītu 191 lamṣatu 305, 309 leʾû/ lēʾû 232, 252–255, 257, 261, 275 lillu 254 maḫāṣu 304 marṣadu 305 masdaru 97, 280, 292, 305, 306, 309 mašmaššu 199, 202 mašmaššūtu 137, 153, 156 mašqītu (mašqīt asûti) 233, 293–294 mašṭaru (malṭarāt asûti) 97, 292, 309 mû 77–78, 209–210, 253 mudû/mūdû 72, 200, 209, 232, 252–255, 281, 296 mukabbû 176–177, 210 munaʾʾišu 179, 193, 213, 215 mušallimānu 192–193 mušēniqtu 189 mušlaḫḫatu 191 mušlaḫḫu 170, 177–184, 188, 193, 249, 288– 291 mušlaḫḫūtu 179, 289–291 nadītu 189, 191 naglabu 62, 97, 101, 187, 303, 305, 308–310 nakāsu 304
388 nakmû 261, 309 naršindatu 191 nasāḫu 306 (n)eṣû 305, 308 niṣirtu 72, 286, 292 nuʾû 252 nuḫatimmu 175–176, 229, 307 nuḫurtu 262 petû 303–304 qadištu 189, 191 qanû 304 qatāpu 305 qīštu 223 qumqummatu 191 quppû 304, 309–310 quppû ša asî 308 rakāsu 118, 292–293 raqqû (ruqqû; muraqqiu) 174–176, 188, 193, 200, 210, 252–253, 268, 288, 291 riksu 101, 287, 292 sarāmu 304, 306 simmu 227
selected akkadian terms ṣalmu 264, 275 ṣamādu 170, 292–293 ṣarrišu 78, 104 ṣillû 304 simdu 78, 292–293 ṣimdu ša asî 293 ṣurru 62, 97, 305, 308–310 šabšūtu 189, 272, 298, 300–302 šāʾiltu 191 šammu 96–97, 101, 204, 220, 227, 233, 237, 262, 282, 291–294 šerʾānu 149, 221–222 šuʾiginakku 185 tākaltu (bēl tākalātim) 59, 272 takāpu 304 tārītu 189 ummânu 80, 120, 174, 196–198, 200–201, 210, 212, 231, 234, 253–255, 274, 277, 278, 289 ummatu 72 ummu 52, 103–104, 122, 135, 152, 301 uṣultu 304 zilullûtu 179–180
Selected Sumerian Terms a (a nam-ti-la) 59, 132, 176, 208–210 agrig 49–50, 198 arḫuš (ama-arḫuš) 52, 104, 130, 138, 142, 144, 157, 161 a-zu 59, 98–99, 117, 127, 142, 157, 173–174, 176, 208–210, 214–215, 217–218, 221, 225, 237, 239 munusa-zu 216–218 a-zu anše 193, 213, 215 a-zu-gal 37–38, 59–62, 80, 94, 98–99, 127– 128, 130–133, 142, 148–150, 157, 160–161, 185, 209, 213, 219, 235, 267–268 a-zu gud 213, 215 a-zu lugal 229 a-zu₅ munsub 188, 215 lu₂a-zu ša₂ igiii-meš 216 a-zu₅ uḫ-du.du 215 bad 90, 146 bulug 305 bulug-kin-gur4zabar 305 gišdala₂ 304 gal 27, 32 gi-du₃-a 304 gi-dur kud 49, 130 gir₂zabar 304 gir₂-gag(zal)(zabar) 305 gir₂-sunzabar 305 (gir₂-)šu-i 305, 308 gir₂-turzabar 304 na4gir₂-zu₂-gal/ na4zu₂ 305 gul 27, 32 gu-la 27–32 gu₂-la₂ 27–32 i₃-ra₂-ra₂ 174, 176, 210 kar 106–109 geme2kar-kid3 190 kinda(gal) 60, 185 kin-gurum-mezabar 305 urudukin-turzabar 304
kud 304 kurku (gu₃-an-ne-si) 52 laḫ₄/₅ 177 muḫaldim 307 munusmuḫaldim 175, 180, 307 munsub 185, 188, 215 muš-laḫ₄/₅ 177nin 34, 109, 124 nu-gig 130, 189–190 sa (sa5) 90, 149, 222 ša₃-zu 98, 130, 141, 189–190, 268, 302 šim-mu₂ 133, 143, 148–149, 158, 173–174, 176, 190, 288 šu-dim₄-ma 49–50 šu-ḫalbi 135–136, 212, 295 šu-i 174, 176, 180, 184–188, 215, 305, 308 munusšu-i 185, 216–217 šu-i egir-ra 187 šu-i-gi-na 185 šu-i gu₂-na 187 šu-i lugal 185–186 šu-i sag-ga₂-na 187 tin 146 tug₂ gal 269 lu2tug₂-kal-kal-la 176–177, 210 u₂-nam-ti-la 132–134, 209 u3-gul 40–41 ug5 90, 146 um-ma 297 um-me 189 um-me-da 189–190 um-me-ga-lal 189–190 ušum-gal 170, 184, 221, 289 zi-ša₃-gal₂-la 132–133 zu 89, 199, 208–209, 253, 282, 289
Geographical Names Açemhöyük 306 Adab 28–29, 43, 153, 213, 235 Afghanistan 262 Alalaḫ 108, 112, 120 Āl-Gula 56 Anatolia 75–76, 191, 306 Apum 113–114 Aqar Quf 68, 137 Arad-bēlti 221 Arpad 83 Arrapḫa 225, 228 Assyria 13, 63–64, 73, 83–84, 92, 104–105, 119, 136, 280, 302 Aššur 71, 73–75, 81–83, 89–90, 113–114, 122, 144, 158, 220, 225, 233, 240, 240–241, 254, 280 Awal (Tell as-Suleimeh) 34 Bāb-Ibaʾum 35 Babylon 37, 64, 85–86, 89–92, 116, 121, 126, 224, 226, 242, 244, 284, 307 Babylonia 30, 63–64, 72–73, 80–81, 83–84, 92, 104–105, 136, 145, 224, 232, 241, 244 Baltil 84 Bīt-Gula 87 Borsippa 44, 86, 88, 121, 242 Byblos 192
Emar 38, 76–77, 80, 112, 114, 155, 208, 253, 271 Enegi 33–34 Ešnunna 28, 33, 35–44, 112 Fara/Šuruppak 28, 139, 146, 151, 174, 177, 188, 190, 217, 219, 235 Garšana 186, 225 Girsu 12–13, 61, 139–140 giš.u₃.ku.kulab₄ki/giš.u₃-kul₂-laki 39 Ḫattuša 63, 77, 244, 271 Ḫilpu 64, 71–72 Iran 43, 262, 306 Iri-Sagrig 186 Irrēya 169, 228 Isala 30 Isin 10–13, 29–30, 37, 46–47, 51–58, 60, 62, 64–66, 68, 71, 81, 86, 90–91, 100, 109, 115–116, 123–128, 130–131, 134, 136–137, 140, 147–151, 156, 160, 234, 259–261, 267–268, 306 Išḫali 111–112, 114 Išur 112 Jebel Hamrin 34
Chogha Gavaneh 43 Deir el-Medina 184, 225 Dēr 32, 34, 37, 52, 91–92, 111 Dilmun 110, 257 Diyala 34–35, 37, 40, 43, 112, 114, 116, 169, 228 Dunnu-saʾidi 88 Dūr-Enlilē 64 Dūr-Kurigalzu 64, 67–68, 71–72, 81, 136, 221 Dūr-Ugulla 39 Dūrum 39 Ebla 106, 112, 154, 177, 190, 208–209, 212–213, 217, 219, 228, 305, 308 Egypt 179, 180, 182, 184, 193, 225, 306 Ekallāte 257 Ekallatum 229 Elam 33, 61, 111–112
Kalḫu 83, 225 Karkemish 108, 112 Kār-Tukultī-Ninurta 225 ki-an 30 Kisurra 126 Kiš 126 Kizzuwatna 112 Kültepe/Kaneš 306 Kuʾara 37 Kullab 39 Kutalla (Tell Sifr) 54 Lagaš 12, 13, 31, 36–37, 126, 139, 142, 189–190, 214 Larak 55, 109, 124–125 Larsa 12, 51, 53–54, 115, 125–126, 132, 140, 235
391
geographical names Magan 111 Malgium 34 Mardaman (Bassetki) 75–76, 81, 227–228, 230 Mari 57, 62, 76, 107–108, 112–114, 117–118, 186, 203, 218, 223–225, 227–228, 237, 239 Mê-Turan 39–40, 131, 150 Nagar 213 Nineveh 85, 279, 289 Nippur 10–12, 28–30, 37–38, 43, 45, 47–48, 50–53, 55, 59–60, 64–67, 72, 81, 86–87, 91–92, 95, 107, 111, 115, 119, 124–127, 130, 136–137, 139, 143, 146–152, 154, 156, 159– 160, 185, 190, 199, 217, 219–221, 223, 225, 227–228, 232, 234–235, 238, 240, 244, 259–261, 276, 309 Nuzi 72, 111, 169 Puzriš-Dagan 31, 47, 124, 147, 186 Saggarātum 225 Shemshara 203 Sippar 51, 55–57, 61, 64, 66, 71–72, 85–86, 88, 114–116, 121, 127, 155–156, 159–160, 213, 218, 235–237, 241 Suqûm/Zukum 54 Susa 229 Syria 75–76, 112, 180, 306 Šaduppûm (Tell Harmal) 111
Šubat-Enlil 223, 237 Tell Abu Salabikh 34, 151 Tell Asmar 181 Tell ed-Dēr 56, 61 Tell Ibrahim al-Khalila 88 Tell Sabi Abyad 82, 175, 218 Terqa 112 Til-Barsip 94 Trans-Tigridian region 32, 33–36, 39, 42, 111 Tummal 147 Tuttul (Tell Biʾa) 306 Tutub (Khafajah) 39, 112 Tyre 94 Ṭabētu (Tell Taban) 38, 75, 204 Ugarit 36, 38, 40, 63, 76, 80, 108, 112, 114, 120, 151, 155, 200, 252, 271, 277 Umma 28–31, 37, 45, 47–48, 51, 54, 107, 125– 126, 156, 225 Ur 12, 28, 31, 36–37, 39, 51, 64, 125, 137, 139, 147–148, 156 Urkeš 190 Uruk 28, 30–31, 51, 87, 92, 94, 98, 104, 115, 126–128, 133, 156, 201 Zabala 31, 225 Zagros 33, 228
Names of Deities, Demons, Spirits and Monsters A-ba 35, 38 Ab-ba 35–37 Ab-ba-u2 36 Ab-u2 30, 32, 35–39, 42–44, 140 Adad 28, 62, 71–72, 86–87, 111, 115, 264 Adapa 120, 282 Ajja 106 Allagula 32 Amašuḫalbi 135–136 Amurru 61, 74, 235 An/Anu 54, 98–99, 117, 151, 278, 287 Anzû 111, 141 Apollo 8, 11 Ardat lilî 300 Asag 117, 149, 158–159, 205 Asalluḫi (see Marduk) 7, 37, 48, 93–96, 118– 119, 135, 269, 276, 286–288, 301 Asclepius 8, 82, 264 Azimua 37, 60 Bašmu 36, 114 Bau 1–4, 9–14, 27, 38–39, 42, 44–45, 52–53, 60, 64, 70, 73–75, 80, 87, 97, 99–101, 104, 116, 121, 130, 133, 137, 139–146, 149, 151–152, 156–161, 173, 214, 240, 267–268, 284 Bau ša qēreb Aššur 75, 145 Bēl 92 Bēlet-balāṭi 34, 87, 91–92 Bēlet-ilī 103 Birtu 41 Damkina 61 Damu 3, 9–10, 31, 40, 45–47, 52, 55, 59–63, 76, 79–80, 87, 91–92, 95–97, 103, 118– 120, 124–126, 128–133, 137, 143, 146–148, 150–151, 153, 156, 160, 185, 209, 239, 270, 272, 297, 309, 312 Dingirmaḫ 28, 59, 138, 153, 272 Diritum 230 Dumuzi 52, 61, 148 Ea (see Enki) 7, 101, 118–119, 198, 205, 210, 271, 276, 278, 282, 286–288, 297, 301 Edin-mugi 214 Enanun 52, 104
Endaga 151 Enki (see Ea) 7, 37, 48–49, 129–130, 138, 151, 205, 210, 276, 286–287, 301 Enlil 22, 34, 50, 59–62, 66–67, 71, 87, 90, 94, 125–126, 128, 130–132, 134, 140, 142, 146, 148–149, 159–160, 185, 205, 240, 271 Enlilbanda 271 Enoch/Hermes/Idrīs 264 Ereškigal 87, 125 Erra 80 Ē-turamme 41 Gašan-ašte 55, 109, 124–125 Gašantiluba 66, 135 Gilgameš 32, 133, 183 Gula 1–7, 9–14, 24, 27–35, 37–106, 108, 115– 122, 124–128, 133, 135–138, 140–148, 150–161, 192, 210–211, 218, 223, 228, 232– 234, 239–240, 242, 244–245, 259–260, 264–268, 270–284, 286–288, 291–297, 301–303, 307, 309–313 Gu₂-la₂ 4, 11, 13–14, 27–30, 32–35, 37–39, 41–44, 51–52, 140, 147 Gula of Isala 30 Gula of ki-an 30–31 Gula of Umma 30, 45, 47–48 Gula (ša) abbi 88 Gula ša ṣēri 83 Gulazida 38, 42, 53 Gunura 9, 31, 46, 47, 124, 126, 147–148, 150, 156, 239 Ḫala 72 Ḫendursag 29–30, 43 Hygieia 8 Ibaʾum/Ipaḫum (see Ab-u₂) 35–36 Ib-u₂ (see Ab-u₂) 36, 38 Ilaba 35, 110 Imzuana 72 Inanna (see Ištar) 65–66, 100, 141, 125, 208 Inana of Zabala 31 Inšušinak 108, 257 Inzak 110 Ip-pu (see Ab-u₂) 36 Išḫara 110, 112–114, 116–117, 154, 159
names of deities, demons, spirits and monsters Ištar 40, 61, 66–67, 77, 82–83, 100, 103, 111, 125, 143, 209, 280, 303, 308 Ištarān 32, 34, 36–37, 52, 80, 92, 111 Kaka (Gaga) 34 Kiš-la 29 Kulla (dsig4; see also (U)kulla(b)) 39–42 Kuribba 138 Kurunnītu 92, 143 Kusarikku 62 Kusu 63 Lagamal 53 Laḫmu 88, 97 Lama 154 Lamašaga 154 Lātarāk 239 Lilû 300 Lugal-Isin (see Pabilsag) 62 Madānu 85, 89 Manungal 92, 152 Marduk (see Asalluḫi) 7, 37, 55, 62, 65, 73– 74, 94–95, 103, 120, 137, 144, 153, 156, 160, 197, 200, 205, 258, 264, 269, 275– 276, 282, 286–288, 297, 301–302 Marduk ša rēmi 302 Martulanki 42 Maškadu 62, 309–310 Mazziat/Manzât 110–111, 297 Meme 4, 9, 14, 64, 66, 70, 72, 83, 86–87, 94, 99, 103, 137, 153–156, 160, 272, 277, 286 Memešaga 154 Meskilak 110 Mušḫuššu 32, 36, 181 Nabû 92, 99, 144, 280, 297 Namma 138 Namtar 42, 134 Nanaya 86, 111, 121, 296 Nanna 31, 39 Nanšak 41 Nanše 100, 141 Nazi 37 Nergal 61–62, 139–140, 149 Ninazu (see Tišpak) 33–34, 36–40, 42–43, 52, 61, 145 Nindara 37 Ningal 39, 141
393
Ningeštinana 161 Ningipar 31 Ningirida 34, 37, 42–43 Ningirima 42, 48–49, 102, 107, 119, 282, 313 Ningirsu (see Ninurta) 34, 39, 44, 52–53, 88, 137, 139–141, 143–145 Ningišzida 37, 58–60 Ninḫursag 37, 107, 143 Ninibgal 31 Ninigizibara 31, 40, 100, 126, 291 Ninimma 50, 91 Ninirigal 63 Ninisina 1–4, 9–14, 27, 29–30, 34, 38–39, 42, 44–49, 51–57, 59–62, 64–66, 68–69, 71, 82, 85, 89–90, 95, 103–104, 114–117, 119, 122–144, 146–154, 156–161, 173, 189, 209, 217, 228, 239, 267–270, 287, 305, 307, 309–310 Ninisina-gula 32 Ninisina of Umma (see Gula) 29–30, 47, 54, 126, 156 Ninkar (Nin-kar2) 106 Ninkarrak 104, 106–123, 125, 127–128, 135, 137–140, 143–144, 146–147, 154, 156–161, 267, 270, 277–278, 293, 297, 313 Ninlil 34, 67, 87, 100–101, 147–148, 310 Ninmadiriga 100 Ninmaḫ 59, 138 Ninmaš 53 Nin-Nibru 40, 60, 65, 151 Ninsianna 9–10, 61 Ninsun 37, 100, 133 Ninšarnuna 126 Ninšubur 28 Ninšubur-gula 32 Ninšušinak 110 Nintilaʾuga 115, 126, 147–151 Nintimud 147 Nintinuga 1–4, 9–14, 27, 42, 45–49, 52, 60, 66, 87, 93, 96, 100–101, 115, 124–126, 133–134, 137–138, 146–153, 156–161, 173, 217, 239, 267–268, 295, 304 Ninur(a) 30–31 Ninurta (see Ningirsu) 29, 34, 38, 40, 42, 44–45, 51–53, 60, 63–67, 71–73, 83–85, 87, 92, 94, 98–100, 105, 110–111, 119, 126, 137, 139, 141, 143–144, 151, 154, 160, 234, 264, 279 Niraḫ 36, 114
394
names of deities, demons, spirits and monsters
Nisaba 50, 73, 80, 155 Nunamnir (see Enlil) 60 Nungal 49–50, 152 Nungal-gula 32 Pabilsag 52–53, 55, 60, 62, 117, 124–125, 140, 151 Sāmānu 111, 134, 127, 134, 150 Sîn (Suen) 39, 53, 80 Šakkan 142, 214, 272 Šala 86 Šamaš 55, 60–61, 84, 103, 106, 153, 264 Šara 30–31 Šara of Umma 30, 45 Šara of ki-an 30–31 Šarrat Nippuri 44, 66 Šeru’a 175 Šuḫalbi 135 Šul 145 Šulšaga 145
Šumaḫ 47, 49, 124, 147, 150, 239 Šuwala 75 Šuziana 138 Tišpak (see Ninazu) 33–34, 36, 38–44, 60, 109 Udug 205 ukaduḫḫû (ur ka-du8-a) 62, 107, 111 (U)kulla(b) 4, 14, 28–30, 32–35, 38–44, 60 (U)kulla(b) of the City 39 (U)kulla(b) of the Ganun 39 Ul-sar (Nisaba) 73 Ūm 106, 110–111 Ungal-Nibru 100 Urgi ša Gula 54 Urmašum 126 Ušumgal 184, 221, 289 Utaʾulu 53 Utu (see Šamaš) 9, 53, 56, 58–60, 126, 142 Zababa 44, 53, 60, 75, 143–145, 151
Seals and Seal Impressions Beyer 2001: 276 G2 blmj 2789 bm 89214 bm 98730 bm 102505 bm 122125 bm 129099 Brett 72 Buchanan 1966: no. 633
77 192 144 233, 280, 292 143 36 152 62 279
canes 360 canes 560 canes 575 canes 581 canes 691 canes 694 canes 781 cco 1 S 523 cco 1 T 98 cco 2 A 581 cco 2 A 619 cco 2 A 685 cco 2 A 686 Collon 1987: no. 378 Collon 1987: no. 554 Collon 1987: no. 756 Collon 1987: no. 793 Collon 1987: no. 805
55, 62 60, 62 73 198 280 302 84 61–62 142, 214 61 237 302 280 74 279 181 279, 303 74
Delaporte bn 150 Delaporte bn 355 Delaporte bn 358
62 104 302
Ellis 1977: fig. 3
239, 302
Fuhr 1977: fig. 8a Fuhr 1977: fig. 8b
74 74
Genève 55 Göhde 2002: 166 Abb. 2 Göhde 2002: 168 Abb. 6 Gordon 1939: 31 plate 5
73, 137, 141, 144 61 61 274
Horniman 11 hs 118
143 152
ib 29 ib 699 ib 1260 im 51915 im 51916 im 51917 im 51920 im 51921
70 62 69 68 68 68 68 68
Kist 361
302
Lambert 1979: no. 66 141, 302 Lambert 1988 (Sotheby’s 1988: no. 115) 73, 79, 157, 232, 274 Limet 1971: no. 2.20 73 Limet 1971: no. 5.7 73, 79 Limet 1971: no. 5.11 73 Limet 1971: no. 7.17 237, 275 Limet 1971: no. 8.14 73, 79, 93, 281 Limet 1971: no. 8.16 119 Limet 1971: no. 9.3 73 Limet 1971: no. 9.6 73 Limet 1971: no. 11.1 73, 137, 144 Limet 1978–1979: no. 1 73 Matthews 1992: no. 29 Matthews 1992: no. 31 Matthews 1992: no. 32 Matthews 1992: no. 173
119, 137, 275 73 137 73
natn 83 natn 641 natn 662 nd 1989.334 nd 1992.438 Newell 178
29 29 29 302 192 117
Parker 1974: 185–187 fig. 1 Parker 1975: no. 52 pbs 14 539 pbs 14 541 pbs 14 564 pbs 14 565 pkg 14 273g pkg 14 273h
102 280, 303 198 119 119 119 84, 280 302
396
seals and seal impressions
Porada 1979: fig. 14 77 Porada 1981–1982: no. 30a 198
Stiehler-Alegria Delgado 1996: no. 266 198 Stiehler-Alegria Delgado 1996: no. 266a 198 Stiehler-Alegria Delgado 1996: no. 268 198
Stiehler-Alegria Delgado 1996: no. 2 119 Stiehler-Alegria Delgado 1996: no. 23 73, 137 Stiehler-Alegria Delgado 1996: no. 29 137 Stiehler-Alegria Delgado 1996: no. 84 143 Stiehler-Alegria Delgado 1996: no. 163 119, 137 Stiehler-Alegria Delgado 1996: no. 165a 137 Stiehler-Alegria Delgado 1996: no. 170 73 Stiehler-Alegria Delgado 1996: no. 175 137, 144 Stiehler-Alegria Delgado 1996: no. 189 73 Stiehler-Alegria Delgado 1996: no. 221 73 Stiehler-Alegria Delgado 1996: no. 233 152 Stiehler-Alegria Delgado 1996: no. 236 73, 79, 93, 281 Stiehler-Alegria Delgado 1996: no. 238 152 Stiehler-Alegria Delgado 1996: no. 241 73, 79 Stiehler-Alegria Delgado 1996: no. 243 79, 232 Stiehler-Alegria Delgado 1996: no. 259 144
Teissier 1984: no. 134 Teissier 1984: no. 220 Teissier 1984: no. 231
155 279 192
var 392 var 440 var 655 vat 15468
40 38 280, 303 74
was 3 371 was 5 232 was 5 233 was 5 234 was 5 236 was 5 237 was 5 238 Wittman 1992: no. 20
62 302 302 302 84 302 279, 303 198
yos 14 seal 70 yos 14 seal 71
112 112, 117
Text References 1905-4-9, 3 79-7-8, 291 81-7-1, 3395 4nt 3 5nt 91 2 R 60 3 R 66 4 R 56 5 R 33 5 R 44
150 85 71 87, 95 139 256–257, 259 83, 108, 119, 145 49 178 72, 87, 145, 152, 155
A. 140 A. 150 A. 350+A.616 A. 373 A. 863 A. 2216 A. 33600 A. 7555 Aba munbale AbB 4 145 AbB 5 198 AbB 5 277 AbB 6 22 AbB 6 118 AbB 6 181 AbB 8 85 AbB 8 109 AbB 9 109 AbB 9 231 AbB 10 55 AbB 10 57 AbB 10 169 AbB 11 23 AbB 11 57 AbB 11 98 AbB 11 138 AbB 11 154 AbB 11 159 AbB 12 31 AbB 12 61 AbB 13 138 AbB 14 67 AbB 14 155 AbB 14 203 AbB 14 204
227 235 224 121 235 227 87, 95 126, 147 195 191 216 55, 60 191, 228 39 54 56 256 185 56 169, 222–223, 251 298 169 55, 60 170 56, 116 56 56 56 56 186 56 39 185 56 55–56, 60
AbB 14 206 55, 60 AbB 14 221 36 abrt 1 18 10 abrt 2 16–18 (K 232+) 10, 138 Acrostic Hymn to Nabû 297 Adapa 120, 282 Advice to A Prince 254 Agum-kakrime Inscription 178, 199, 274 Alamdimmû 286 AlT 449(+)450a 108, 120 Aluzinnû-Text 178, 256–259 Ambos 2013: vi.B.2.2.B₂48 85 Ambos 2013: vi.B.3.2 85 Amiet 1970: 14–15, fig. 8 34 Amiet 1972: no. 2325 229 amt 9, 2 308 amt 17, 2 277 amt 26, 3 277 amt 40, 2 200 amt 42, 6 138 amt 45, 5 277 amt 49, 4 303 amt 67, 1 300 amt 88, 2 276 amt 105, 1 234 amt 105, 2 236 An=Anum 27, 34–39, 41, 44, 52–53, 61, 104, 106, 126, 135, 137, 145, 154 An Axe for Nergal 149 anm 3633 217 ao 2344 179 ao 6775 41 ao 8196 104, 155 ao 10329 56 ao 11276 114–115, 134 ao 11447 216, 236 ao 17656 152, 153, 272 ao 17662 66, 87 ao 26781 72 aret 1 1 217 aret 5 19 208 arm 2 127 224
398 arm 4 65 229, 237, 294 arm 5 32 214 arm 8 2 108 arm 9 24 40 arm 9 27 40 arm 10 18 218 arm 14 3 227 arm 25 130 218 arm 25 787 223, 251 arm 25 788 170 arm 26 125 204; 293 arm 26 267 223, 230, 237 arm 26 270 214 arm 26 273 170 arm 26 276 230, 293 arm 26 278 225 arm 26 280 203 arm 26 282 186, 226 arm 26 296 293 arm 26 403 203 arm 26 403-bis 203 arn 22 60 As. 30 T 141 39, 112 As. 30 T 220 39 As. 30 T 235 40 As. 30 T 471 40 As. 30 T 708 39–40 As. 31 T 286 40 As. 31 T 310 40 As. 31 T 703 40 As. 31 T 730 39 As. 31 T 391 40 As. 32 1060 35 Ashm. 1911.235 54, 126, 130 Ashm. 1922.61 279 Ashm. 1924.492 99, 278 Ashm. 1932.520 59 Ashm. 1937.620 108 Ashm. 1938.620 100 Assurbanipal Colophon q 98, 279 Assurbanipal Prism H 91 Aššur Medical Catalogue 99, 122, 184, 213, 233, 236, 240, 277-279, 285–286, 289, 299–300 auct 1 70 148 auct 1 241 147, 239 auct 1 969 47
text references auct 2 97 31, 46 auct 2 279 148 auct 2 292 31 a-zu kalam-ma dnin-i3-si-in-na-ke4 157, 161 Babylonian Almanac bam 1 bam 3 bam 36 bam 39 bam 42 bam 44 bam 49 bam 50 bam 99 bam 105 bam 124 bam 125 bam 127 bam 128 bam 131 bam 148 bam 201 bam 228 bam 229 bam 248 bam 297 bam 322 bam 336 bam 375 bam 376 bam 385 bam 391 bam 394 bam 413 bam 430 bam 431 bam 449 bam 471 bam 480 bam 482 bam 494 bam 503 bam 508 bam 509 bam 510 bam 513
63 216, 236, 272 175 74, 75, 144 303 233 233 294 233, 294 90 91 60, 104, 138, 171 138, 171 138 60 90 75 90 212 212 300 187 98, 286 79, 120, 277 104 104 200 175 174, 221 171 96 96, 103 104 200 276, 304 304 216 175 277 277 61, 97, 277, 281–282, 293, 310 61, 277, 281, 293
399
text references bam 514
61, 97, 277, 281, 282, 293, 310 bam 515 304, 305 bam 516 212 bam 524 281 bam 533 61, 91, 277 bam 534 153, 272 bam 535 153 bam 537 61 bam 538 120, 227 bam 543 61, 91, 277 bam 549 91 bam 553 61, 91 bam 556 233 bam 574 61, 93, 277 bam 577 277 bam 578 61, 211 bam 579 233–234, 294 bam 580 97, 280, 303, 305, 308–309 bam 7 9 87, 93, 95–97, 145, 281–282, 293, 304 bam 7 10 282 bam 7 45 310 Banquet of Gula 83 Banquet Stele of Assurnaṣirpal 262 bap 80 57 bas16C-i6 76 bbr 26 269 BBSt 3 143 BBSt 4 119 BBst 5 67 BBst 6 66–67 BBst 7 78 be 6/1 22 55 be 6/1 87 57 be 14 53 204, 223 be 14 111 236 be 14 123a 219, 221 be 14 132 72 be 14 148 64, 239 be 15 74 65 be 15 178 174 be 15 188 80, 157 be 15 190 80 be 15 200 80, 157 be 17 21 171 be 17 22 170
be 17 32 be 17 33 be 17 94 Berossos’ Babyloniaca bin 2 75 bin 4 91 bin 5 300 bin 5 301 bin 7 67 bin 7 175 bin 7 176 bin 7 183 bin 7 186 bin 7 187 bin 7 196 bin 7 200 bin 8 62 bin 8 158 bin 9 43 bin 9 118 bin 9 321 bin 9 471 Bīt mēseri bl 3 bm 29209 bm 30211 bm 32206+ bm 34655 + 45718 bm 34850 bm 35019 bm 36417 bm 38537 bm 41282+ bm 42327+ bm 42399 bm 42454+ bm 45405+ bm 46276+ bm 46919 bm 50501 bm 54509 bm 54609 bm 54641+ bm 54722+ bm 55060 bm 55305 bm 68097 bm 74696 bm 77433
212, 294 176 82 198 140 107, 113 135 135 107 126 54 55 55 55 56 56 235 123 107 107 37 151 94, 198 150 88 74 85 101 90 86 258 103 216 122–123 95, 286, 296 95, 118, 286, 296 96, 118, 297 10, 103, 122 242 86 258 258 304 221 258 258 86 86 88
400 bm 78076 bm 78963 bm 79125 bm 79938 bm 85983 bm 92699 bm 96100 bm 96166 bm 98584+ bm 98730 bm 102253 bm 103385 bm 103386 bm 113891 bm 118796 bm 122624 bm 129092 bms 4 bms 6 bpo 2 Brinkman 1976: v.2.4 brm 1 99 brm 3 17
text references 91, 145 103 60, 97, 273 60, 91, 118 305 72 88 242 102, 282–283, 286 233, 280, 292 88 121 305–306 143 95 150 304 10 10 84, 91 67 85 140
Campbell Thompson 1927: pl. 1 94, 287 Catalogue of Texts and Authors 72, 101–102, 152, 155, 197, 288 Cavigneaux 1981: 79.B.1/41 40, 108 Cavigneaux 1981: 79.B.1/135 40 Cavigneaux 1981: 79.B.1/200 40 Cavigneaux 1981: 79.B.1/224 38 Cavigneaux 1981: 79.B.1/235 38 cbs 563 56–60, 142 cbs 1511 116 cbs 2157 38 cbs 3098 137 cbs 3650 80 cbs 6565 181 cbs 7072A 132 cbs 7075 29, 52 cbs 7111 30, 52 cbs 7968 53 cbs 10616 65–66 cbs 10898 80 cbs 10971 186 cbs 11871 72 cbs 12604 54 Chogha Gavaneh ChG 20 43 CMAwR 1.1.3 120
CMAwR 3.4.2a CMAwR 7.8.2 CMAwR 7.8.3 CMAwR 7.8.11 CMAwR 7.18 CMAwR 8.17 CMAwR 8.27 CMAwR 10.3 Crisostomo 2018: text 2 Crisostomo 2018: text 3 Crisostomo 2018: text 5 Crisostomo 2018: text 6 ct 2 47 ct 4 40c ct 6 2 ct 8 18c ct 16 28 ct 17 4 ct 17 50 ct 23 2 ct 23 41 ct 25 8 ct 36 7 ct 42 32 ct 45 23 ct 46 52 ct 47 65 ct 47 65a ct 48 42 ct 49 15 ct 56 618 ctmma 1 25 ctmma 1 61 ctmma 2 20 ctmma 2 30 ctn 4 110 ctn 4 116 ctn 4 204 cusas 3 574 cusas 5 238 cusas 9 381 cusas 11 186 cusas 12 2.1.3 cusas 12 5.2 cusas 13 59 cusas 13 143 cusas 17 9
155 290 191, 290 111 75, 99, 144, 236, 284 135 180 104 55 55 60 60 114 57 118 235 269 289 297 49, 138 304 34, 41, 44 143 62, 96, 118, 270–271, 293, 297 57 104 57, 116, 127 57, 116, 127 116 85 241 31 114, 116 88 95, 286, 296 41 97, 280, 309 257, 259 45, 47 225 174, 176, 196, 210– 211, 237 219 180, 191 174 235 28 81
401
text references cusas 17 107 cusas 19 173 cusas 20 40 cusas 25 28a cusas 27 37 cusas 29 25a cusas 30 2 cusas 30 203 cusas 30 384 cusas 30 390 cusas 30 399 cusas 30 410 cusas 32 2 cusas 32 7(f) cusas 32 8(b) cusas 32 8(d) cusas 32 11 cusas 32 13 cusas 32 16 cusas 32 22 cusas 32 25a cusas 32 41 cusas 32 59 cusas 32 147 cusas 32 179 cusas 32 211 cusas 33 240 cusas 35 275 cusas 35 276 cusas 35 278 cusas 35 284 cusas 35 354 cusas 35 360 cusas 35 469 cusas 36 38 cusas 36 56 cusas 36 147 cusas 37 119 cusas 37 219
190, 221 185 29 272 219 60 64 64 64 64 64 143 181 135 135 212 60, 131, 150 134 143 62 59, 271–272 181 40, 60, 143, 151 80 169 213 219 213, 219 219 219 219 28 235 28 60, 142, 157 142, 157 60 64 64
Di. 1272 57 Dispute of Nisaba and Wheat 80 Dog for Nintinuga 49, 148–149, 173 Dombradi 1996: Si. 120 56 Dossin 1950 (Mari offering list) 108, 113–114 Dossin 1971 (Zimri-Lim victory stela) 108, 117
dp 40 208 dt 1 254 Durand and Charpin 1981: no. 115 115 ed Officials 219 Egalkura 121 Eidem 2011: L.T.-2 114 Eidem 2011: L.T.-5 114 Eidem and Lassøe 2001: 104 no. 34 203 Elegy on the Death of Nawirtum 154 Emar 6/1 108–109 76 Emar 6/1 264–265 208 Emar 6/2 497 209 Emar 6/2 571–574 208 Emar 6/4 539 38, 77 Emar 6/4 603 77, 155 Emar 6/4 737 76 Emesal God List 110 Enki and Ninmaḫ 138 Enki and Ninḫursag 37 Enlil-bāni A 130 Enmerkar and Ensuḫkešana 297 enūma Anu irḫû erṣetim 98 Enuma Eliš 254, 258, 281, 287 Erimḫuš 209 Erra Epic 75, 197–198 es 2232 143 Esarhaddon’s Succession Treaty 94 Esarhaddon’s Treaty with Baal, King of Tyre 94 Eş 401 179 etcsl 1.1.1 37 etcsl 1.6.2 305 etcsl 1.7.5 124 etcsl 1.8.2.4 297 etcsl 2.1.7 169 etcsl 2.2.2 55 etcsl 2.2.4 60, 130, 133, 185 etcsl 2.5.1.4 54, 269 etcsl 2.5.3.1 32 etcsl 2.5.3.4 126–127, 129, 147, 269, 305, 309–310 etcsl 2.5.4.2 111, 142 ectsl 2.5.8.1 130
402 etcsl 3.3.21 etcsl 4.22.1 etcsl 4.22.4 etcsl 4.80.1 etcsl 5.5.1 etcsl 5.5.3 etcsl 5.7.2 etcsl 6.1.2 etcsl 6.1.3 etcsl 6.1.7 Exorcist’s Manual
text references 127, 133–134 127, 129–130, 269, 305 127, 129–130, 133, 138, 269, 305 32, 128, 142 50 154 148 53, 185 49 50 285, 289, 300
Falkenstein 1956: 2 no. 123 135 faos 5/1 Urnanše 20 179 faos 5/1 Urnanše 22 179 Farber 1989: 42–43 §2 °42 61, 91, 103 Farber 1989: 86–87 §25 °369 91, 103 Farber 1989: 98–99 §32 61, 91 Farber 1989: 104–105 §34 103 Farber 2014: oa₁ 20 107, 114 Farber 2014: “sks” 103 Ferwerda 1985: no. 6 124 Ferwerda 1985: no. 8 107 Ferwerda 1985: no. 15 107 Gate Lists of the Esagil 85, 89 George and Taniguchi 2019: no. 57 89, 100– 101, 278, 280–281, 291 George and Taniguchi 2019: no. 58 89, 100– 101, 122, 152, 278, 280–281, 291, 295 George and Taniguchi 2019: no. 59 89, 100– 101, 287, 309–310 George and Taniguchi 2019: no. 60 89, 100, 122 George and Taniguchi 2019: no. 61 89, 100 George and Taniguchi 2019: no. 62 89, 100, 122 George and Taniguchi 2019: no. 63 90, 103, 135–136, 138, 146, 152, 154, 287 George and Taniguchi 2019: no. 64 90, 103, 146 George and Taniguchi 2019: no. 65 90, 103, 146 George and Taniguchi 2019: no. 66 146
George and Taniguchi 2019: no. 67 146 George and Taniguchi 2019: no. 68 146 George and Taniguchi 2019: no. 90 258 George and Taniguchi 2019: no. 205 258 Gilgameš, Enkidu and the Netherworld 32 Gilgameš Epic (11 294–307) 133, 183, 197, 209 Götteradressbuch 71, 83, 89, 144, 155 Göttertypentext (mio 1) 88, 97, 309 Great Revolt against Narām-Sîn 57, 107–108, 117, 127 Greengus 1979: no. 302 111 Gudea Cylinder B 168 Gula Hymn of Bulluṭsa-rabi 12, 34, 44, 66, 88, 91, 93, 100–102, 108, 122, 145, 152, 157, 242, 278, 280– 281, 286–287, 291, 293, 295–296, 309– 310 hs 118 hs 194 hs 1555+ 1587 hs 1954+ Ḫulbazizi Hunger 1968: no. 40 Hunger 1968: no. 50 Hunger 1968: no. 71 Hunger 1968: no. 199 Hunger 1968: no. 202 Hunger 1968: no. 203 Hunger 1968: no. 222 Hunger 1968: no. 233 Hunger 1968: no. 234 Hunger 1968: no. 236 Hunger 1968: no. 238 Hunger 1968: no. 242 Hunger 1968: no. 246 Hunger 1968: no. 329 Hunger 1968: no. 366 Hunger 1968: no. 372 Hunger 1968: no. 380 Hunger 1968: no. 382 Hunger 1968: no. 435 Hunger 1968: no. 528
152 65–66 107, 111 111 180 199 200 174, 221 90 90 90 75 94 236 94 75 75, 144 99, 277 98, 234 224 224 90 236 101, 288 236, 238
403
text references ias 82 ib 18 ib 543a ib 550a ib 821 ib 942-943-944 ib 945–948 ib 950–951 ib 1006a ib 1152 ib 1188 ib 1283 ib 1542+ ib 1552+ ib 1667 ib 1878 ib 1966 Iddin-Dagan A Iddin-Dagan D
28, 106–107 87, 93, 100 56 56 56, 58 136 136 136 126 136 136 56 115 115 147 123 109, 115 32 126–129, 147, 269, 305, 309–310 igi 61, 97, 102, 212, 277, 281–282, 293, 304– 305, 308, 310 Igituḫ 193 im 49104 81, 233, 244 im 49233 170, 226 im 51915 68 im 51920 68 im 51292 181 im 56385 77–78 im 67953 66 im 74651 77–78 im 80908 67 im 90585 78, 93 Inana’s Descent to the Netherworld 209 Inbu bēl arḫi 63–64, 144, 284 Isin God List 56, 115, 147 Ist A 1765 74 Išbi-Erra D 53–54, 126, 269 Išme-Dagan B 140–142 Išme-Dagan i 32 Ištar’s Descent 209 itt 3 6316 142, 157 itt 5 6707 135 izi = išatu 180, 188, 215
K 232+3371 + 13776
John Rylands Library Box 22 219 John Rylands Library Box 24 E 5+25 130
kar 109+ 343
K 2596 K 2809 K 3179+ K 3225+6321 K 3484 K 3933 K 4093 K 4334 K 4349d K 4415 K 4578 K 6057+ K 8663 K 9171+ K 9287 K 9886 K 11264 K 13320 kadp 11 Kagal kaj 92 kaj 192 kaj 209 kaj 223 kal 1 6 kal 1 9–15 kal 1 10 kal 2 9 kal 3 79 kal 4 28 kal 4 34 kal 7 1//2 kal 7 15 kar 4 kar 15 kar 16 kar 26 kar 41 kar 44 kar 54 kar 71 kar 73
10, 103, 122, 135–136, 138, 146, 152, 154, 287 253 64, 144 60, 137, 152, 157 100, 122 53 86 64 256 52 135 308 95–96, 98, 296, 309 236, 238 103 257 259 94 100, 122 99, 277 149, 191, 213 193 175 74 220 144 178 304 75, 99, 144, 236, 284 145 287, 292 80 75 138 200 10 10, 119 180, 290 10 184, 285–286, 289, 299–300 134, 150 121 94, 96–97, 145, 281, 282 41, 44–45, 90, 145– 146
404 kar 111 94 kar 132 87, 145 kar 142 85, 104 kar 144 222 kar 174 178 kar 252 94 kar 301 80 kar 341 94 kar 428 186 Kassite Akkadian Vocabulary 72 Kassite God List 72 kav 11 197 kav 63 75, 145, 155 kav 72 75 kav 76 75 kav 180 155 Kbo 10+ 224 Khorsabad Temple List 120 Kt 94/k 821 107, 114 kts 25 191 ktu 1.115 114 kub 37 43 77 kub 37 45 77 kub 37 46 77 L 7072 Lamaštu (Lam.)
67 103, 113–114, 120– 121, 123, 296 Lambert 1985 (Mari God List) 108, 113 Lambert 2011 77–78 Lament over the Destruction of Ur 36 lapo 16 169 214 lapo 16 170 229, 237, 294 lapo 16 171 227, 293 lapo 16 172 227 lapo 18 1132 218 Laws of Hammurabi 34, 53, 78, 116–117, 171, 186, 188, 213, 216, 222–223, 251, 267, 304, 308-309 Laws of Ur-Namma 170, 171, 184, 189– 190, 221, 251 lb 929 123 lb 1000 62, 96, 118, 270, 293, 297 lb 1108 124
text references Letter from Scribe Nanna-Manšum to Ninisina 127, 133–134 Letter-Prayer of Inanaka to Nintinuga 49, 148–149 Letter-Prayer of Sîn-iddinam to Ninisina. 59, 125, 131–132, 134, 137, 209, 228, 267 List of Seven Gulas 104, 155 lka 17 91, 93, 99, 101, 145, 155–156, 279 lka 18 99 lka 20 69–71, 90, 145, 155 lka 21 152 lka 37 86 lka 104 121 lka 147 137 lka 147a 137 Lu 149, 157, 173–174, 185, 187–188, 193, 202, 213, 215–219 Ludlul bēl nēmeqi 23, 203, 297 Lugale 305 M 15289 Malku Maqlû
108, 118 193 94, 191, 287, 290, 292, 296, 297, 299 Marduk Prophecy 197 Marduk’s Address to the Demons 258 marv 2 17 225 marv 3 1 174 marv 3 36 74 marv 3 48 74 Maul 2005: no. 2 75 Mayer 1976 Gula 1a 79, 85, 93, 96, 103, 281 Mayer 1976 Gula 1b 103 Mayer 1976 Gula 5 138 Mayer 1976 Gula 6 96 mdp 1 168 72 mdp 2 112 67 mdp 2 113–114 65, 67 mdp 6 31 143 mdp 6 37 119 mdp 6 41 77–78 mdp 6 46 77 mdp 11 88 106, 110 me 51 114 mee 3 234 39
405
text references mee 4 289 107 mee 4 351 35 mee 4 740 177 mee 4 1304′ 154 mee 7 48 217 mee 12 37 308 Meier 1941–1944 94, 275 mhet ii/2 249 56, 116 mhet ii/5 633 56 Middle Assyrian laws 293 Middle Assyrian Palace Decrees 229 mlc 1861 161 ms 2064 221 ms 4549/2 181 Msk. 74105a 208 Msk. 74247 208 Msk. 731030 75 msl 3 81 145 msl 3 116 185 msl 3 141 146 msl 7 148 305 msl 7 161 304 msl 7 172 308 msl 8/2 28–29 215 msl 10 138 293 msl 11 14 90 msl 11 54 153 msl 11 57 39 msl 12 13 174, 213, 215–216 msl 12 17 188 msl 12 36 185, 187, 188, 213 msl 12 58 218 msl 12 100 193 msl 12 119–120 202 msl 12 124 189 msl 12 133 173 msl 12 162 305 msl 12 169 215 msl 12 201 149 msl 13 114 187 msl 13 137 174 msl 13 213 215 msl 13 222 180, 188 msl 13 230 149 msl 15 39a 180 msl 15 114 271 msl 16 176 185, 215 msl 16 181 304
msl 17 73 msl 17 226 mun 302 mun 307 Mustafa 1983: no. 26 Mustafa 1983: no. 121 Mustafa 1983: no. 126 Mustafa 1983: no. 127 Muššuʾu 4/a Muššu’u 5/a
mvn 2 154 mvn 3 344 mvn 5 38 mvn 5 125 mvn 15 118 mvn 15 877 mvn 16 877 mvn 22 101
209 153 221 64 40 40 40 40 96, 112, 118–119, 270, 297 10, 49, 103, 119, 122, 130–131, 135, 137, 146, 149, 152 47, 148 32 135 47 47 45 239 229
N 969 212, 225 N 1286 169, 228 N 3147 132 Namburbi 103, 178, 187, 222 Namerimburuda 137 Nanaya Hymn of Sargon ii 296 nbc 9502 67 Nbk 1 120 Nbk 13 86, 89, 93, 120–121 Nbk 15 86, 93, 121 Nbk 16 86, 120–121 Nbk 19 85–86, 89, 93 Nbk 20 86, 89, 120–121 Nbk 27a 86, 108, 120–121 Nbk 27b 86, 108. 121 Nbn. 8 93, 152 ncbt 19 87 nes 98-06-238 153 nes 98-08-112 153 nes 98-08-135 153 nes 98-10-048 29 nes 99-11-001 153 Ni. 127 220 Ni. 482 29 Ni. 2439 52 Ni. 2484 52
406 Ni. 2676+ 173 Ni. 2909 289 Ni. 9672 (Zolyomi 2010) 54, 126, 130 Nik. 149 208 Nineveh Medical Compendium 279 Ninisina A 3, 49, 59, 125, 127– 130, 189, 269, 305, 309 Ninisina C (Ninisina’s Journey to Nippur) 10, 119, 127 Ninisina D 127, 129–130, 133, 138, 269, 305 Ninisina F 140 Nippur Compendium 66, 87, 91–92, 152 Nippur God List 28, 35, 38, 41–42, 53, 107, 114, 116, 140 Nippur Lament 59–60, 126, 130, 133, 185 Nippur Temple List 66 nta a. 2617 176 Nungal A 49 nypl 221 147, 217, 239 OBCNi 6 115 oect 4 141g 108, 123 oect 4 143 38 oect 4 145 38 Offering Bread Hemerology 63–64, 145, 284 Ojeil 2 128 Ontario 1 98 217 Oppenheim 1948: C1 185 osp 2 124 219, 235 Owen 2013a: no. 208 217 Owen 2013a: no. 230 217 Owen 3013a: no. 293 107 Pabilsag’s Journey to Nippur 124 Paulus 2014: U 36 143 Paulus 2014: U 40 77 pbs 1/2 30 68 pbs 1/2 58 238 pbs 1/2 71 225 pbs 1/2 72 219–220, 262 pbs 1/2 127 128, 134 pbs 2/2 53 61 pbs 2/2 83 65
text references pbs 2/2 92 196 pbs 2/2 107 220 pbs 2/2 108 80, 220 pbs 2/2 110 219 pbs 2/2 116 185 pbs 4/1 36 107, 111 pbs 5 1 124 pbs 7 98 116 pbs 8/2 110 37–38, 107, 115 pbs 8/2 141 37, 60 pbs 8/2 146 151 pbs 8/2 264 140 pbs 10/2 13 125 pbs 10/4 12 199 pbs 12/1 53 52 pbs 13 26 149 pbs 13 44 124 pdt 1 310 124 pdt 2 1050 139 pdt 2 1173 47, 148 pdt 2 1224 47, 148 Peat 1975 30 Pomponio and Visicato 1994: no. 2 216 Pomponio and Visicato 1994: no. 3 235 Pomponio and Visicato 1994: no. 10 174, 190 Pomponio and Visicato 1994: no. 11 216 Pomponio and Visicato 1994: no. 116 235 Poor Man of Nippur 185, 232, 240, 261, 276, 309 Postgate 1973: no. 1 219 Proverbs Collection 2 + 6 185 Proverbs Collection 3 49 Proverbs Collection 7 49 rima 2 A.0.99.2 rima 2 A.0.99.3 rima 2 A.0.101.1 rima 2 A.0.101.28 rima 2 A.0.101.29 rima 2 A.0.101.30 rima 2 A.0.101.32 rima 3 A.0.103.2 rima 3 A.0.104.2010 rima 3 A.0.104.2016 rimb 2.4.8 rimb 2.8.7 rimb 2.8.10 rimb 2.8.11 rimb 6.31.10.127
74, 83 83 83 83 83 83, 262 83 92 94 84 72 136 137 137 88
407
text references rime.1.9.1.2 179 rime 1.9.1.4 179 rime 1.9.1.27 139 rime 1.9.1.28 139 rime 1.9.4.11 140 rime 1.9.5.24 140 rime 1.9.9.11 140 rime 2.1.3.5 123 rime 2.1.4.3 106–107, 111 rime 2.1.4.5 106–107, 110 rime 2.1.4.6 107, 126 rime 2.11.6.2 125 rime 3/1.1.1.6 142 rime 3/2.1.6.1006 149 rime 4.1.3.1 131 rime 4.1.7.3.2001 134 rime 4.1.10.4 134 rime 4.1.10.6 126, 147 rime 4.1.10.8 126 rime 4.2.7.2001 128, 132–133, 268 rime 4.2.13.2 51, 125 rime 4.2.14.2004 235 rime 4.4.1.11 128, 133 rinap 3/1 Sennacherib 34 92 rinap 4 Esarhaddon 9 179, 193 rinap 4 Esarhaddon 33 83 rinap 4 Esarhaddon 48 92 rinap 5/1 Assurbanipal 9 (Prism F) 83, 179 Rm. 2, 34 180, 188 Rm. 219 150 Rm. 376 80, 157 rom 910x209.531 94, 287 rs 17.41 155 rs 20.006 80, 108, 120, 277 rs 20.123+ 72 rs 22.439 271 rs 24.260 114 rs 25.129+25.456B 76, 80, 152 rs 25.420+ 120 rs 25.422 76, 80 rs 29.103 252 rtc 93 219 rtc 96 219 saa 2 2 saa 2 5 saa 2 6
83, 143, 204 94 94
saa 3 4 saa 4 185 saa 4 187 saa 4 321 saa 4 322 saa 6 59 saa 6 107 saa 6 193 saa 6 320 saa 6 321 saa 6 325 saa 6 328 saa 6 339 saa 7 1 saa 8 463 saa 10 23 saa 10 72 saa 10 160 saa 10 166 saa 10 191 saa 10 200 saa 10 201 saa 10 209 saa 10 226 saa 10 238 saa 10 273 saa 10 289 saa 10 294 saa 10 315 saa 10 316 saa 10 319 saa 10 322 saa 10 326 saa 10 328 saa 10 330 saa 10 333 saa 10 335 saa 10 337 saa 11 153 saa 11 183 saa 12 82 saa 12 86 saa 13 66 saa 13 135 saa 14 286 saa 15 4 saa 16 26 saa 16 65 saa 18 18
296 204 204 192 192 75 72 236 236 236 236 236 236 229, 286 225, 284 254 254 231–232 134 294 300 300 186 253 269 255 253 201, 253, 294 284 193, 262, 294 293 255 279 92 236 92 187 294 85 236 236 236 225, 285 83 75 225, 228 225, 300 201 92
408 saa 19 38 saa 20 30 saa 20 40 saa 20 49 sact 1 169 Sakikkû Samanu incantations Sassmannshausen 1997 sat 1 435 sat 2 517 sat 2 956 sat 3 1186 sat 3 1277 sat 3 1316 sat 3 1538 Sattukku-texts Sb 6425 sbh no. 49 Schaudig 2001: 493 3.1 1 Schaudig 2001: 519 3.3′ Schramm 2008: no. 8 Seidl 1989: no. 29 Seidl 1989: no. 50 Seidl 1989: no. 59 Selz 1993: no. 18 6 Selz 1993: no. 86 8 Selz 1993: no. 120 9 sem 74 SEpM 19 SEpM 20 Silbenvokabular A Silbenalphabet Sîn-iddinam C Slaying of Labbu slt 118+ slt 122–124 Sm. 695 SpBTU 1 44 SpBTU 1 47 SpBTU 1 51 SpBTU 3 60 SpBTU 3 63 SpBTU 3 67 SpBTU 3 84 SpBTU 3 109
text references 171, 172 83 83, 120, 145 83 124 78, 104, 144, 155, 226, 236, 284, 286 107, 111, 114, 127, 134, 150 137, 153, 156 107 148 47 217 47, 48 217 225 126, 151 77–78 125 203 151–152 131, 150 72 72 72 185 185 185 59, 131 149 148 76–77, 155, 200, 208–209, 252–253 200 59, 131–132, 209 33 27, 38, 42, 140 35, 38, 41–42, 53, 107 94 61, 91, 277 99, 278 99, 216, 278 98 91 60 104 104
SpBTU 3 111 304–305 SpBTU 3 116 180, 193, 293 SpBTU 4 129 103 SpBTU 5 248 60, 103, 122 srt 6 127 srt 7 127 Steible 1982: 2 no. 3 146 Steible 1982: 2 no. 4 146 Steible 1982: 2 no. 5 146 Stolper 1985: no. 10 87 Stolper 1985: no. 63 87 Stolper 1985: no. 64 87, 155 Stolper 1985: no. 67 87, 155 Stolper 1985: no. 90 87, 155 stt 34 80 stt 35 80 stt 73 90, 96 stt 89 304 stt 92 187, 232 stt 95+295 104 stt 179 87, 150, 304 stt 252 60 stt 373 193 stt 301 236 Sumerian Flood Story 124 Synchronistic King List 197 Syncretistic Nanaya Hymn 86, 111, 296 Ṣēru šikinšu
289
Ša malṭi eršiya ittiqu 180 Šimâ milka (Admonitions of Šūpē-awīlim to His Son) 271 Šulgi D 34 Šumma Ālu 104, 178 Šurpu 63, 121, 135, 145–146, 152, 157, 173 Šu-Sîn A 140, 144 Tab T05A-134 Tab T05A-617+ Tab T07–1 Tākultu tcbi 1 35 tcbi 1/2 86 tcbi 2/2 1 tcbi 2/3 4 tcl 1 132
204, 220 75 38 83, 119, 145, 193 29 219 48 142, 157 213
409
text references tcl 2 5482 tcl 2 5501 tcl 2 5514 tcl 2 5550 tcl 5 6053 tcl 10 107 tcl 14 54 tcl 15 10
31, 37, 46 154 37 147, 239 29 218 107, 113 27, 34, 39, 41, 42, 53, 116, 125, 135, 147, 154 tcl 16 40 55 tcl 16 75 150, 151 tcl 16 89 148, 150 tcl 21 207 154 tcti 2 3567 170, 178, 221 Tell Sabi Abyad T88–01 81, 218 Tell Sabi Abyad T88–03 81, 218 Temple Hymns 32, 128, 142 Thureau-Dangin 1939: 10–12 62 tim 6 15 217 Tintir 35, 85, 89 tlb 3 92 219 tm.75.G.1645 212 tm.75.G.2287+10157 213 tm.75.G.2459 208 tm.75.G.2508 308 tm.75.G.10074 308 tmh nf 1/2 275 29 tmh nf 5 29 204, 221, 223, 239 tmh nf 5 159 28 TSifr 89 51 tss 46 216 tss 150 123 Tukultī-Ninurta Epic 232–233, 280, 292 TuM 2–3 241 66 Tutub 1 112 U 30655 Udugḫul uet 1 165 uet 1 276 uet 2 suppl. 49 uet 3 156 uet 3 267 uet 3 736 uet 3 1001 uet 3 1211 uet 4 57
96, 294 128, 134, 173, 175, 269, 276, 288 78 107, 110 153 135 32 31, 46 135 217 186–187
uet 4 58 uet 5 112a uet 5 112b uet 5 311 uet 5 493 uet 5 494 uet 5 592 uet 5 671 uet 5 771 uet 6/2 393 uet 6/2 399 uet 7 73 uet 7 123 uet 8 13 uet 8 63 Ug. 5 19 Ug. 5 137 Ug. 5 163 Ug. 5 218 Ug. 5 222 ugu 1
186–187 37 37 51 60 60 51 51 51 94, 287 62 202, 215 300 110 51 80, 108, 120, 277 72 271 36, 38 40 187, 276, 303– 304 uiom 1059 107, 119 um 29-13-84 53 um 29-13-375 52 um 29-13-398 52 um 29-13-515 52 um 29-13-819 52 um 29-13-876 72 um 29-15-5 140, 150 um 29-15-11 72 um 29-15-367 48–49, 59 um 29-15-685 221 um 29-16-42 126 um 29-16-636 + N 1538 40 unl 1 132 142 unl 1 133 142, 157 Ur Lament 55, 124 Ur-Namma D 195, 221 Urra = ḫubullu 90, 215–216, 258, 304, 305 uru₂ am₃-ma-ir-ra-bi 40 Uruanna 99, 294 Uruk List of Kings and Sages 197 Ušburruda Incantation 99 uti 3 1843 47 uti 5 3177 225 uti 5 3267 31, 45
410
text references
uti 5 3493 utu b
30 9, 60
va 15193 vat 8918 vat 9750 vat 9932 Visicato 1995: no. 187 Visicato 1995: no. 190 Visicato 1995: no. 195 Visicato 1995: no. 214 vs 4 165 vs 6 242 vs 10 202 vs 17 10 vs 17 33 vs 21 30 vs 24 20
119 155 75 155 28, 185 28 28 28, 185 121 216, 241 134, 150 150 49, 59 81 38
W 17259 am W 23830d was 3 167 was 3 617 Weidner Chronicle Weidner God List
115 305 126 57 115 36, 38, 40, 42, 53, 75–76, 145
Westenholz 1997: text 16a wf 147 Why Do You Cuss Me? Wilcke 2018: no. 20 Wilcke 2018: no. 21 Wilcke 2018: no. 22 Wilcke 2018: no. 25 Wilcke 2018: no. 26 Wilcke 2018: no. 27 Wilcke 2018: no. 28
108, 117, 127 185 91, 137, 145, 155, 223, 240, 259–260 69, 136 69, 136 69, 136 69, 136 69 69 69
Wilcke 2018: no. 29 Wilcke 2018: no. 30 Wunsch 2000: no. 125 Wunsch 2000: no. 127 Wunsch 2000; no. 128 Wunsch 2000: no. 130 Wunsch 2000: no. 131 Wunsch 2000: no. 132 Wunsch 2000: no. 143
69 69 242 242 242 242 242 242 242
ybc 2401 ybc 4605 ybc 4973 ybc 7123 ybc 7139 yos 8 76 yos 10 25 yos 11 5a yos 11 5b yos 11 6 yos 11 7 yos 11 14 yos 11 47 yos 11 49 yos 11 68 yos 11 69 yos 11 86 yos 12 282 yos 12 329 yos 12 383 yos 14 71 yos 14 204 yos 14 219 yos 14 234 yos 19 110
35–36 59, 131 115 99, 277 279 54, 125 186 60 63 119 212 62, 310 63 63 63 134 272 140 140 240 117 112, 125 140 140 201
Zami Hymns
123