Creation and the Cosmos

A detail from the Hellenistic altar of Pergamon,
ca. 164–156 B.C.E., that shows the giant
Alcyoneus being forcibly separated from the
earth goddess, Gaia, by Athena

WORKS DISCUSSED:

• Cannibal Spell for King Unis (2325 BCE)
• Enuma Elish (1500 BCE)
• The Great Hymn to Aten (1350 BCE)
• The Book of Genesis (1000—300 BCE)
• Hesiod (800 BCE) 
• Theogony
• Works and Days
• Early Greek Philosophers (700—500 BCE)
• Thales
• Heraclitus
• Empedocles
• Anaxagoras
• Lucretius (100—50 BCE)

• The Way Things Are

______________________________

Tell me, O Muses who dwell on Olympos,
and observe proper order for
each thing as it first came into being.

S

elected above are various cosmologies--origin stories about the cosmos--from five major cultures in the ancient Mediterranean and Near East: Egyptian, Mesopotamian, Hebrew, Greek, and Roman. It's fascinating to compare these stories, because for all their differences they include common themes that can't be chalked up to cross pollination. They appear to be ingrained in the human psyche from the earliest times, shared by everyone.

        To begin with, in each account humans believed that the universe operates by a discoverable set of laws, whether constructed by deities or scientific principles. And while it was recognized that life comes with an element of chaos, there's also an effort to explain (and therefore control) it. In other words, we believe that the universe is not merely arbitrary or random.

    Each also believed, to some degree, in the divine or supernatural. No perspective--not even the philosophers--dare deny the gods, and they probably would not understand our modern perception of a strictly material and natural universe. The conviction that the cosmos must have been made via intelligent design, with appealable omniscient interveners, is universal among humans. It in part stems from man's inability to understand certain patterns, which appear inexplicable and (ostensibly) defy explanation. Deities then become "gods of the gap."

    Lastly, there's the need, not just to understand the universe, but to spread that understanding to others, whether for power-purposes or simply to establish cultural solidarity. A person who holds the key to the origin of the cosmos would be seen as an authority figure within the community, just as the community needs a cohesive mythology to rally behind. Given that there were various competing cosmologies in the ancient world, many within a given culture in fact, imposing a single unifying theorem is imperative for those in charge.

Akhenaten and his family make an
offering to Aten, the sun god

T

his is especially apparent in the ancient writings of Egypt, Mesopotamia, and the Levant. Enuma  Elish, The Great Hymn to Aten, and The Book of Genesis are each ultimately about conferring power on God's chosen, whether from Marduk, Aten, or Yehweh. This doesn't diminish their artistic value, but it's something to keep mind. Enuma Elish is the most egregious here, with the upstart Marduk slicing through the existing Babylonian pantheon, and given credit for much of the universe's creation. His stark and aggressive rise mirrors that of his cult, who needed theological backing for their ascension to the top of such a powerful culture. It's literally a universe-rending "retcon", rewriting (mythological) history to such an extent it makes Orwell sound tame by comparison.

    The Hymn to Aten at least has an awe and reverence for our personal star that elevates the work to an endearing enunciation of how important the sun is to life on Earth. While demonized at the time, there is a compelling simplicity to this proto-monotheism. Why attend to the countless gods of the Egyptian pantheon when the one that matters is stamped right there in the sky? And of course the Hebrews took this logic to its furthest conclusion. For initially being an ex post facto justification for the House of David's control of Israel, The Book of Genesis is astonishing in its breadth and aspiration, especially if you agree that Yahweh won history's long theomachy. 

    But my favorite is The Cannibal Spell for King Unis. While it was written to accompany and empower the dead Pharaoh on his quest in the afterlife, really the text reveals the beauty with which the ancient Egyptians viewed the world. They looked at the most common routine in our solar system—the orbit of celestial objects—and saw a story: as stars and lesser gods litter the night sky, the Pharaoh is the blaze who wipes the horizon clean, devouring all in his wake. As night creeps back and the King weakens, he must be reborn the next morning. Or replaced? Regardless, it’s a spectacular process.

    The work quoted in the intro, from Hesiod, is a tad different. His Theogony has no political undertone and seems to revel in myth for its own sake. The bard is nostalgic for the gold and silver ages of his peoples' past, and is pessimistic about his contemporary world. He suggests that life is manipulated by cosmic forces, and man must endure, rather than forge, his future. This reflects the Greeks' rather complicated relationship with free will: they believed in an all-powerful fate that you could not evade, but could, oddly enough, defy. (It's like being chained to a carriage: you can wiggle in resistance all you want, but it's still taking you wherever it wants to go.) Opposed to this is the Prometheus myth, where technology, intellectual courage, and the will to survive is what progresses mankind. Thus civilization is juxtaposed with a more savage and barbaric past.

A modern impression made from an Akkadian seal from
ca. 2200 B.C.E. depicting the sun god riding a boat
with a dragon head—suggesting how the civilized god has
defeated and co-opted the forces of chaos (the dragon).

A

real shift from the above is found in the philosophers and proto-scientists of the Greeks and Romans. They constructed a natural universe governed by predictable mathematical and scientific laws, though they do not renounce the divine, and strive to incorporate theology into their theories. The biggest point of departure is in presentation. The early Greek philosophers approach something closer to our conception of scholarly work, focusing on clarity, objectivity, and specialized terms. That said, it's important to keep in mind that both "myth" and "science" strive to capture truth, and the former should not be considered fiction in the way we conceive it. The actual point of disagreement between these cosmologists is in the details of the universe they reveal, as well as the definite principles governing them. But both ask the same questions: What are the operative laws of the cosmos? Do gods exist? How involved are they? What about magic and science divorced from theology?

    This synthesis is best encapsulated in Lucretius, who argued for a natural and explainable cosmos that does not, and indeed cannot, include interference from deities. Under this paradigm the universe contains an infinite amount of infinitesimal atoms, which combine and swerve to explain all physical matter and motion. But ironically he ascribes to Venus many of the wonders that he also imputes to his atomic theory. On the surface this looks like a simple contradiction, but it makes sense if we view Venus not as a god or muse, but as a symbol.

    A symbol of what? What else but the passion to understand the universe itself. Lucretius' masterstroke is to attribute the prime motivator for his work to the same spirit that generates life, gives it meaning, and bonds all organisms together. An all-permeating force that predates mankind and will also outlast it. Thus we are not the center of the universe: its fitness doesn't depend on us. The cosmos is marvelous all on its own.