There is only one certainty in life: death. From the moment we are first ejected screaming from our mothers’ wombs the sands of time began to slip through our fingers until the last grain drops and we reunite with the earth that nourished us in life. From time immemorial, humankind has sought ways to evade the predator that stalks our every footfall. Some turn to religion, hoping that it will grant an eternity beyond this ephemeral plain of existence. Others turn to the sciences, begging the laws of nature to bend for one more day. The rest of us pray that our legacies will endure beyond those who knew us in life. The signs of this desire to achieve immortality are found in the dusty ruins of forgotten empires and the cobwebbed tombs of nameless kings. Desperately they carve their names into stone so that we may remember them long after all they have ever been is swallowed by the gaping mouth of history.
On 11 fragmented stone tablets from 2100 BCE, a story of such desperation is chronicled in near-forgotten cuneiform. The epic of Gilgamesh follows the personal journey of the king of fabled Uruk, a city nestled between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers of old Sumer. In this story of gods, kings, monsters, men, and women, Gilgamesh’s wanton hubris and hedonistic abandon are challenged by the gods.
To tell the story as succinctly as possible we must start with the man himself. Gilgamesh was an oppressive ruler. He worked his people night and day without rest in order to build Uruk’s great walls. In those days an impressive set of walls was a status symbol that physically manifested a city’s wealth and its ruler’s power. The people cried out to the gods for relief and their prayers were answered. Anu, the patron god of Uruk, requested that Aruru, the goddess of creation, fashion a champion to save Uruk from Gilgamesh’s tyranny. So Enkidu, a wild man, was born. Enkidu was the protector of the natural world. He saved wild animals from traps, chased away hunters, and guarded wolves as they stole from farmers’ flocks.
Upon hearing of this wild man, Gilgamesh sent a temple harlot (yes that is what they were called) to tame him. With bread, wine, and a little bit of that Bronze Age good-good (wink wink) Enkidu was tamed and brought to the city where Gilgamesh challenged him to a wrestling match. They became friends after seeing they were equally matched and decided to set out on great adventures together. The most notable of these adventures was their victory over the monster Khumbaba. After vanquishing the creature, they cut down the entire cedar forest it guarded and kept the lumber as their prize.
Having borne witness to Gilgamesh’s proud exploits, Ishtar, the goddess of war and sex, fell in love with him and invited him to be her consort (I am sure the excessive body oil and Sumerian chest hair had something to do with it). Gilgamesh poetically likened her to the village donkey (bicycles did not exist yet) and disrespectfully declines. Ishtar, a woman scorned, sent the bull of heaven to stomp Gilgamesh into a bloodstain. The bull failed at this task. However Enkidu, Gilgamesh’s best friend, is grievously wounded in the fray and later succumbed to his injuries.
Gilgamesh was beside himself with grief. Having been confronted with the grim reality of his mortality, the king set out to find the secret of eternal life after Enkidu’s funeral. Gilgamesh found a magic island and underwent a test administered by an immortal, which he failed miserably. He received one last opportunity to win immortality by swimming to the bottom of the sea and finding the herb that grants eternal life to whoever consumes it. He successfully acquired the herb, but soon after fell asleep and lost his prize to a hungry animal. Defeated, he returned to Uruk. On his return, he looked up in awe at the great walls and assured himself that his legacy would live on in his works. Gilgamesh became a better king, and we continue to tell his story today.
What does this story teach us? The Epic of Gilgamesh confronts us with the reality of mortality. One day we will all die. No matter what we do, it will happen. In the prime of his youth with near absolute power over his people, the thought that he might die never occurred to him. It was said that “His lust leaves no virgin to her lover…” In his mind there were no consequences for him, only conquest and pleasure. The world was his and the thought that it could ever change never entered his mind. He was untouchable. This was further bolstered by his ability to flout the attempts by the gods to bring him to heel by befriending the very wild man they created to stop him.
Hope this helps I did alot of research so me!
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