The Story of the Watchers as a Counter Narrative: Enochic Responses to the Authority of Mesopotamian Sages

Abstract

The extant texts of Enochic Judaism present accounts about the early history of humankind, which use the motifs familiar from the ancient Mesopotamian historiography. The different versions of the Jewish story of the Watchers originate as counter narratives about the antediluvian sages, or apkallus, which are known from the cuneiform literature. The myth of Adapa in Akkadian offers a version of the narrative in which the sage was promoted in heaven to a god-like status, which concept is corroborated with an entry in the cuneiform compendium Tintir and the Chronicle of the Esagila. This tradition also associated Adapa with the immortalized flood survivor. In the form of a counter narrative, the Enochic texts of Judaism attributed the heavenly assumption to Enoch and presented the Watchers as the demonic entities subordinated to him. The fall of the Watchers, the promotion of Enoch, and the primordial battle against evil forces are depicted in the Animal Apocalypse of 1 Enoch 85–90. A very similar scenario is found in the Chronicle of Esagila, which describes the early history of humankind from the Babylonian perspective. It can be demonstrated that the Animal Apocalypse uses this or a similar cuneiform historiographic source as the basis of its counter narrative.

1. Introduction

The ancient Israelite literate culture was aware that it was a relative latecomer in the Ancient Near East, where the Egyptian and Mesopotamian civilizations were far older and more glorious. The need to reinterpret older sources was primary within the circles of Jewish intellectuals, who composed the Hebrew Bible. The account of the world’s origins in Genesis 1–11 addresses its “Mesopotamian problem” with various strategies. To face the issue, the authors of Genesis negotiated the past in a way that it included Mesopotamian primacy in the emergence of civilization but privileged Israel as a new beginning, a supersession (Hendel 2005, p. 24). In this manner, potential damage to the ancient Israelite religious identity was efficiently avoided.

The stories provide people with identities in the societies where they circulate. The preceding ancient Mesopotamian narratives had to be changed to fit into the Israelite agenda. When a group or a nation is too much of an object of others’ actions, its identity is restrained and can be liberated with a new narrative. According to the social philosopher H. Nelson, the narratives can provide moral agencies and take them away (Nelson 2001). Such important cultural narratives are called “master narratives”, the stories found lying about in the culture that serve as summaries of socially shared understandings:

Master narratives are often archetypal, consisting of stock plots and readily recognizable character types, and we use them not only to make sense of our experience but also to justify what we do. As the repositories of common norms, master narratives exercise a certain authority over our moral imaginations and play a role in informing our moral intuitions.

(Nelson 2001, p. 6)

Several studies have described the strategies that the authors of the Hebrew Bible used to accommodate the foreign ideas for new contexts. Polemics against Mesopotamian traditions can already be found in the creation account of Genesis 1 (Frahm 2010). R. Hendel (2005) writes that the authors of Genesis 1–11 responded to their encounter with Mesopotamian sources by using three main ways of adaption:

• Appropriation means that a motif in the Mesopotamian master narrative was domesticated for the Hebrew Bible in a very similar form as it occurred in the original source. The foreign origin of a feature can be fully effaced or partially retained. The best example of appropriation in Genesis is the flood story, for which the Mesopotamian ancestry is known since George Smith’s discovery in 1872 (Hendel 2005, pp. 25–26). Some aspects of the flood and its aftermath in the Genesis account subordinate the Mesopotamian material to the dominant narrative of Israel’s origins and destiny (Hendel 2005, p. 26).
• The second strategy is mimicry, in which a Mesopotamian tradition is reproduced with creative imitation, often with subversive humor or irony. Hendel’s example of mimicry is the story of Nimrod in Genesis 10: 8–9 (Hendel 2005, p. 30). This category can include more sophisticated techniques, like the retelling and reworking of original sources. The foundational narrative and its characters are put into the light of non-traditional interpretation, by adding, moving, and removing features from the master story to make new accents in it but not to dissolve its communicative force. The mimicry technique often produces an “alternative story”, which deviates from the master narrative but does not contest it (Nelson 2001, pp. 153–54).
• Inversion is the “counter narrative”, the most complicated and interesting strategy of acquisition as it is often of polemical nature. For Hendel, the account about the construction of the Tower of Babel serves as an example, which in Genesis 11 is depicted as a rebellious act against the natural divide between the God and humanity (Hendel 2005, pp. 31–33). The Tower of Babel was to be made of baked bricks in Genesis 11: 3, which emphasizes its intended permanence, in contrast to the actual building material that was sun-dried bricks. Traditions about the early history in Mesopotamian and Jewish traditions differ in several respects, which represent the outcomes of ancient debates. Some of the Jewish reinterpretations originated from counter versions of earlier Mesopotamian master narratives (Frahm 2010).

The comparative and intertextual reading of narratives from different cultural contexts and in various languages is required to detect the identities these texts intended to share or renounce for their readers and followers. The present paper will study the Babylonian tradition of antediluvian sages from the point of view of comparing it to the Jewish accounts about the Watchers (Annus 2010). The accounts about the Mesopotamian figure of Adapa will be compared to texts about Enoch in Jewish sources, especially in the so-called Animal Apocalypse (1 Enoch 85–90). It will be demonstrated that during the long processes of transmission and development, the Enochic tradition in Judaism selected and reworked various Mesopotamian sources, especially the lore about Adapa/Oannes (Annus 2016, 2022). Within Judaism, Genesis 1–11 started a counter-narrative process to cuneiform traditions that the books of Enoch further expanded with making use of more diverse Mesopotamian narratives about primeval humanity.

2. Discussion: The Story of Watchers as Counter Narrative

The use of counter narratives in reworking the Mesopotamian material can be exemplified with the texts about the Watchers in Genesis 6: 1–4 as well as in similar accounts from the Second Temple literature (Annus 2010; Kvanvig 2011). The mythology of the Watchers and their sons, the giants, are derived from Jewish counter narratives of the Mesopotamian accounts about the antediluvian sages, the apkallus. There are patterns of similarities between the antediluvian apkallus and the Watchers on one hand and between postdiluvian sages and the giants, the sons of the Watchers. The first two groups were fully divine, while the second two were partly of human descent (Annus 2010, p. 282).

A counter story often emerges when the master narrative becomes oppressive to a certain group. The antediluvian origin of the Mesopotamian arts and scholarship and their efficiency were certainly embarrassing factors for those who composed the Watchers story. For a nation that had been under the rule of Mesopotamian empires for centuries, the account about the glorious origins of its science and technology had to be changed. The Israelite scribes did it by showing the Watchers’ actions in a very negative light and themselves as succumbed to the authority of Enoch. The counter story is not necessarily polemical towards its master narrative; it works as a counter in a more subtle way by dissolving its communicative force through the displacement of plots and characters (Nelson 2001, pp. 152–53). According to H. Nelson, the counter story is a narrative that takes up a shared but oppressive understanding of who someone is and sets out to shift it. If the counter story is successful, it allows the person who is reidentified by it to be seen by herself and by others as someone worthy of moral respect—a good in itself. But because moral respect is necessary for the free exercise of moral agency, the counter story’s function of reidentification also contributes to the person’s freedom to act (Nelson 2001, p. 69).

The story of the Watchers was important for groups within Judaism that held the figure of Enoch in high esteem (Boccaccini 1998). The Jewish counter narrative took away the moral rights from ancient Mesopotamian sages and ascribed the all-knowing spiritual authority to Enoch, who acted as the supervisor of the fallen angels. The Mesopotamian master narrative, which the Watcher story set out to counter, had the following content: All kinds of the Babylonian knowledge including arts, priestly crafts, and technical skills originate from antediluvian times. This knowledge is an exclusive property of Babylonian scholars and priests, who have made it forbidden to reveal it to uninitiated. This knowledge originates from the antediluvian sages; it is indispensable and beneficial to humankind. The foremost among the sages was Adapa, who became enthroned in heaven (Annus 2016).

This understanding was countered by the following Jewish narrative: During antediluvian times, certain angels—the Watchers—descended to earth and taught to mankind negative things. They committed immoral actions and taught their secrets to mortal women in exchange for sex. They transgressed the border between the divine and human realms. The knowledge they taught to mankind led to harmful consequences. Their transgressions were punished by the flood, which eliminated their physical existence and turned their descendants into evil demons of disease. The antediluvian figure Enoch, who lived in the world around the same time, was in every respect superior to the Watchers, and it is he who ascended to heaven.

In order successfully to fulfill its agenda, the counter narrative or alternative story must become popular. Therefore, it would have been useless for Jewish authors to write a new unfamiliar account. The counter story is more effective when it uses deviant versions of the master narrative, which shift the accents by changing its plot and characters but nevertheless remain recognizably similar to the original narrative. Every well-known story and urban legend tend to have variants after a longer time in oral circulation. In some layers of Mesopotamian mythology and ritual practices, the ancient sages were already regarded as dangerous and potentially malicious creatures, upon which the Jewish authors could build their counter narratives (Annus 2010, pp. 297–303). For example, in some anti-witchcraft incantations from the Babylonian series Maqlû (III 61–76; VI 85–89), the ancient sages occur as evil agents. The evilness of the antediluvian sages manifests in their capacity to bewitch: “Pure River (and) holy Sun am I. My sorcerers are the Sages of the apsû, my sorceresses are the heavenly Daughters of Anu. They perform sorcery against me, they keep on performing sorcery against me” (Abusch 2015, p. 75, III 61–64). Accordingly, the ancient sages were sometimes demonized as evil beings in ancient Mesopotamia, which the Jewish interpreters took over and emphasized.

For a creative individual intending to compose the counter story of a popular narrative, the pool of variations always provides sound opportunities to consider a similar story with a quite different meaning. The Jewish scholars used less-known Babylonian traditions to compose their counter narratives. In the written record of cuneiform literature, variation existed in all periods (Dalley 2013). In oral circulation, the variation of narratives was presumably even larger. With an adequate spin doctoring, the counter story achieves its goal in changing the meanings in already well-known master narratives. In the following, evidence for some Jewish alternative readings of Mesopotamian popular stories will be discussed.

3. The Promotion of Adapa in Heaven

The foremost among antediluvian sages in ancient Mesopotamia was Adapa, whose mythical activities are illuminated by a variety of cuneiform sources (Annus 2016). The epic fragments in Akkadian tell about primeval Adapa, in particular, the priest and cook in the most ancient city Eridu (Izre’el 2001, pp. 5–6). According to the myth, Adapa routinely goes fishing to the Persian Gulf, where one day the south wind overturns his boat. Adapa breaks the wings of the wind but falls into the sea and immerses into the ocean. After seven days, the sky god Anu invites him to visit heaven, where he becomes indoctrinated. After that meeting, Adapa returned to earth, where he taught the heavenly secrets to humankind (Izre’el 2001). Two recently published Old Babylonian tablets from Meturan, with the Adaba myth in Sumerian, tell the same story but integrate it into the history of the primeval world, which perspective is lacking in Akkadian texts (Cavigneaux 2014). In the Sumerian version, Adaba emerged as a creation of Enki after a series of events following the primeval flood. Recently, a Middle Babylonian fragment from Nippur with the Adaba myth in Sumerian was published, demonstrating its wider circulation (Peterson 2017). The Sumerian version predates Akkadian narratives, which individual tablets contain different editions of a similar story.

Some versions of the Adapa myth still circulated in the Hellenistic period. The Babylonian priest Berossus in the 3rd century BCE wrote about the primeval beast Oannes, who, “in the very first year”, emerged from the Persian Gulf and began to teach mankind all of the necessary knowledge for civilization (Verbrugghe and Wickersham 2000, p. 44, fragment 1). This account tells nothing about the sage’s fishing expedition and his visit to heaven. Berossus begins where the Mesopotamian myth ends, providing a sequel to the story about the heavenly journey of the sage. In the Middle Babylonian version of the Adapa myth, the sage’s journey to heaven is complemented with the motif of his return to earth, after having refused the food offered by the god Anu in heaven (fragment B, rev. 67–70):

“Come, Adapa, why did you not eat and drink? Hence you shall not live! Alas for inferior humanity!”—“Ea my lord told me: ‘Do not eat, do not dr[i]nk!’”—“Take him and [retu]rn him to (his) earth!”

(Izre’el 2001, p. 21)

The Middle Babylonian version and the Berossus account of the story mutually illuminate each other: Adapa first disappeared in the ocean to visit the heavens and later again emerged from the sea to return to teach mankind as Oannes (Annus 2016, p. 50). However, the story had even more variations. According to one cuneiform tablet from the first millennium BCE, Adapa remained in heaven for Anu’s service. The Neo-Assyrian tablet K 8214 in the British Museum contains a different narrative about the destiny of Adapa. The eight lines in the Nineveh fragment concerning Adapa’s heavenly status read as follows (K 8214, rev. 7′–14′):

7′. […] Adapa ultu išid šamê ana elat šamê

8′. [… ip]pallisma puluhtašu īmur

9′. [inūm]išu ^dAnu ša Adapa elīšu maṣṣarta iš[kun]

10′. […] kī ša ^dEa šubarrâšu iškun

11′. [^dAn]u bēlūssu ana arkat ūmē ana šūpî šīmta iš[îm]

12′. […] Adapa zēr amēlūti

13′. […] šū šalṭiš kappi šūti išbiru

14′. […] ana šamê elû šī lū kīam

“[…] Adapa, from the foundation of heaven to the summit of heaven,

[…] looked at […] and saw his awesomeness.

At that time Anu s[et] Adapa at his service.

[…] he established his freedom from Ea.

[An]u se[t] a decree to make glorious his lordship forever:

[…] Adapa, seed of humankind,

[…] he who broke the South Wind’s wing triumphantly

(and) ascended to heaven,—so be it!”

(Izre’el 2001, p. 38)

The elevation of Adapa in this passage can be detected in the last two lines, where the word “triumphantly” (šalṭiš) occurs, which in Akkadian texts usually refers to royal military feats (see CAD Š/1 269f.). The exclamation “so be it forever” (šī lū kīam) refers to a change in status; this formula asserts the fact that Adapa has ascended to heaven and should remain there (Izre’el 2001, p. 42). Accordingly, in this variant of the Adapa myth, the sage assumed a throne in heaven after his ascension. In the Sumerian version, the analogous situation occurs when An offers to Adaba in heaven a throne to sit on as a gesture of benevolence:

a[n]-e a-da-ba ^geš-túgGEŠTUG kù-zu igi-du₈ ^gešg[u-z]a mu-un-na-an-˹sum˺

“An gave to Adaba—the intelligent and wise one—the th[ron]e as an audience gift”.

(Cavigneaux 2014, p. 23, line 166)

The variant of the Adapa myth in which the sage was elevated to the status of Anu himself explains the entry in the cuneiform topographical series Tintir (II 2), which lists important cult places in Babylon (George 1992). This entry directly follows the description of Marduk’s seat “Tiamat” in his holiest cella:

[k]i.tilmun^ki.na šu-[bat] ^da-nim šá mār(dumu) ^mú-^da-ni[m ina muh-hi áš-bu]

“Ki-tilmunna—“Place of Tilmun”—the seat of Anu, [on] which the Son of Oannes [sits]”.

(George 1992, p. 44)

It can be summarized that there existed two versions of the Adapa myth in the Nineveh archives. The fragment K 8214 presents a different version of the outcome of the story: Adapa was not returned to the earth but remained in heaven as the ultimate accomplishment of his divine wisdom (Kvanvig 2011, p. 124; Izre’el 2001, p. 42). As Kvanvig rightly notes, the meaning of Adapa’s destiny in this manuscript changes the whole focus of the text: “The focus is not any longer that Adapa got wisdom and not eternal life. The focus is the elevation of Adapa as the one among humans who stayed in heaven with Anu forever” (Kvanvig 2011, p. 123). This different ending of the Adapa myth features in the list of seats of Marduk’s cella E-umuša, where a certain “son of Oannes” sits on Anu’s throne (Annus 2016, p. 30).

The elevated status of Adapa is reflected in a Neo-Assyrian literary catalogue from Nineveh (Rm 618), which lists the first lines of tablets of different works (Lambert 1962). Line 3 lists the incipit a-da-pà a-na qé-reb AN-[e]—“Adapa in the middle heaven” (Jiménez 2017, p. 117). This is probably the incipit of a tablet that was anything but the first in a late edition of the Adapa text, which consisted of more than one tablet (Lambert 2003–2004, p. 395). This edition of the myth gave an account about the enthroned Adapa in heaven, who entered Anu’s service and could even occupy his throne, becoming equal with the god of heaven.

These divergent traditions about the antediluvian sage Adapa are also manifest in the Bīt mēseri incantations, which append two explanations to his different epithets—(1) Utuaabba, “who descended from heaven”; and (2) Utuabzu, “who ascended to heaven” (Borger 1974, p. 193). The first explanation refers to Adapa, who returned to earth, and the second to the one who remained in heaven. The same explanations point to the two different episodes in the Adapa myth where he ascended to heaven after having been reborn in the ocean (Utuabzu) and later emerged from the sea to teach mankind after his visit to Anu (Utuaabba). According to the ancient Mesopotamian view, Uan/Adapa was an eternal being, whose mythical presence was thought to reappear in different times and places (Annus 2016, p. 84).

Adapa, who remained in heaven resembles the Enoch figure in Judaism, who was translated to heaven, as “an example of knowledge for all generations” (Sirach 44: 16). This Enoch, who is also called Metatron, was God’s vice-regent and had his own throne in heaven according to the Talmudic tradition in Hagigah 15a (Orlov 2005, p. 162). This is a part of the longer passage in the Babylonian Talmud, which deals with four rabbis’ mystical ascent to paradise. Rabbi Aher was astounded to see the angel Metatron enthroned in heaven; therefore, he asked whether there are “two powers in heaven” and became a heretic after returning to earth (Segal 2002). The Babylonian theological concept of Marduk and the “son of Oannes”, who sat next to each other in the holiest cella of Esagila prefigures the “two powers in heaven” debate, which flourished in the early Christian centuries. As I have argued in another paper (Annus 2022), the heavenly images of Adapa and Enoch correspond to the celestial doubles encountered during the religious experiences of Babylonian and Jewish priests. Both Adapa and Enoch are embodied by the earthly priests, who meet their celestial counterparts during ascent experiences. These experiences promote their sense of identity and increase their prestige in religious communities. The alternative in the ascent scenario according to which an antediluvian authority was either allowed to stay in heaven or be expelled to work on earth solved the paradox of how the priests could be active in their mundane form but yet be identified with their eternal heavenly masters (Annus 2022, p. 75).

The twofold status of antediluvian Adapa, who was either commissioned to earth to teach mankind or became enthroned in heaven finds an analogue in the rankings of Adam and Enoch in Jewish Hekhalot writings. Some variants of the Enochic traditions give account for Metatron’s different incarnations. According to Sefer Hekhalot, the heavenly prince Metatron is a single divine being, who first took the form of Adam and later became Enoch. The latter form re-ascended to Adam’s heavenly home, taking his rightful place in the heights of universe (Orlov 2005, p. 108). According to this tradition Adam and Enoch were two mortal forms of the same eternal figure Metatron, the enthroned prince in heaven.

The Babylonian “son of Oannes” in Tintir (II 2) represents the heavenly image of the sage Adapa in the Esagila temple (Annus 2022, p. 70). Tilmun as the name of his seat makes an association with the residing place of the flood hero, pointing to the connection between the flood story and the Adapa myth (Annus 2016, pp. 16–19). One of the flood survivor’s names in Mesopotamian literature was Atra-hasis, “exceedingly wise”, which is also an epithet of the sage in the Adapa myth (Izre’el 2001, p. 9, A obv. 8′). The immortalization of the flood hero was seen as parallel to Adapa’s elevation in heaven. The “son of Oannes” in Tintir (II 2) was an image of Adapa and the heavenly double of the exorcist priest (Annus 2022).

In Mesopotamia of the first millennium BCE, a unified tradition gave rise to the teaching about Uan/Adapa, who as the first and last antediluvian sage impersonated all wisdom. As the first sage, he ascended to heaven and subsequently descended to earth to reveal his knowledge to humankind. The flood hero became either identified with the first antediluvian sage Oannes/Uanna or was associated with him through genealogy. The immortalized flood hero took the seat on the throne of Anu as the “son of Oannes” (Annus 2016, p. 30). In the unified character of Uan/Adapa, the mystical paradox of his twofold destiny was resolved. The Mesopotamian tradition about antediluvian sages who visited heaven influenced the imagery of Enoch in Sefer Hekhalot, which contains two clusters of his names and roles. The older cluster regards him as the heavenly scribe and the expert of the divine secrets in concordance with the Mesopotamian traditions, which shaped the early Enochic lore (Orlov 2005, p. 89). Among these traditions is the Babylonian lore about the antediluvian king and the expert diviner Enmeduranki (Lambert 1998). The second cluster of roles and epithets regards Enoch-Metatron as the second Adam and a savior figure, the “Lesser YHWH” (Orlov 2005, p. 108). The Adapa figure, who remained in heaven influenced the second cluster of roles.

4. Adapa’s Anointment and Clothing in Heaven

The Mesopotamian tradition about Adapa, who remained in heaven, considered him as another form of the immortal flood hero, which invites further comparisons to Enochic texts. As an instance of similarity between Adapa and Enoch, one can point to the Enoch’s heavenly glorification in the Slavonic apocalypse (2 Enoch). Enoch’s exaltation in the end of his heavenly journey reveals a remarkable pattern of similarities with the Adapa myth. In the Amarna version, Adapa ascended to heaven but had to return to earth. In compensation, he received from Anu a divine garb, and he was anointed with heavenly oil (fragment B, 61′–65′):

He was brought the [fo]od of life; he did not e[a]t. [H]e was brought water of life; he did not dr[ink]. [He was br]ought a garment, he dressed. [He was b]rought oil, he anointed.

(Izre’el 2001, pp. 20–21)

The feature common to two Adapas of whom the first returned to earth and the second remained in heaven is that both received a garment and ointment. Adapa had the status of pašīšu priest—“the anointed one”, which was one of the appellations of the sage (Izre’el 2001, p. 9, A obv. 9′). Both in the Sumerian and Akkadian versions of the myth, Adapa was anointed in heaven. This episode of the myth relates to an eponymous medical “ointment of Oannes” that is mentioned on a Neo-Babylonian tablet from Sippar to undo witchcraft (Abusch and Schwemer 2016, pp. 69–70, text 7.13). In 2 Enoch 9: 17–19, Adapa’s promotion in heaven has been used to describe Enoch’s transformation, which takes place in a very similar manner, involving the garments and oil as the main indicators of his divine status. However, in distinction to the Adapa myth, 2 Enoch makes no reference to drink and food being offered. When Enoch arrived in front of the divine throne, the Lord said to Michael:

“Approach and remove Enoch’s earthly garments! Anoint him with My blessed oil and dress him with garments of My glory!” Michael did what God told him; he anointed me and dressed me. The appearance of the oil was greater than a great light and its lubricant was like blessed dew, and its fragrance was like myrrh shining like the sun’s rays. I looked myself and saw that I was like one of His glorious ones and there was no obvious difference.

(Badalanova Geller 2010, p. 48)

Putting on and removing the garments had an important symbolic meaning in several Mesopotamian myths, where death and descent were associated with stripping, and ascent was associated with clothing (Annus 2006, pp. 17–22). The bestowal of new garments also served as a declaration of legal purity (Annus 2016, pp. 85–86). In the immediately following passage (2 Enoch 10–11), Enoch is twice offered a seat in heaven, initially by the angel Vereveil (Vrevoil) for honoring his scribal role. Later the God himself invites Enoch to the seat next to himself to share some information that remains hidden even from the angels. Here, Enoch makes the important transition from the legal scribe to the celestial judge (Orlov 2005, p. 162). The heavenly promotion in 2 Enoch follows quite closely the scenario described in the Adapa narrative and relates to the Mesopotamian text, both as an appropriation and as a counter narrative in promoting Enoch instead of Adapa.

5. The Animal Apocalypse and Mesopotamian Chronicles

There was a very ancient tradition in Mesopotamia going back to Uruk III times according to which the king Enmerkar and his wife built a town and made agriculture possible in the land (Katz 2017, p. 202). This tradition persisted to later times as Enmerkar is mentioned as the builder of Uruk in the Sumerian King List (ETCSL 2.1.1, line 104). According to the literary text Enmerkar and the Lord of Aratta, this king also invented the writing tablet and cuneiform script (ETCSL 1.8.2.3). Two ancient Mesopotamian historical-literary texts mention Adapa and Enmerkar together as contemporaries through an association between them as culture heroes. The cuneiform chronicle called Enmerkar and Adapa is known from the first millennium copies (Glassner 2004, pp. 294–95). Another, the Chronicle of the Esagila, which has also been called “Weidner Chronicle”, is composed in the form of a fictitious royal letter that originates no earlier than 1100 BCE (Glassner 2004, pp. 263–69).

The second chronicle contains motifs that can be compared to the Animal Apocalypse in 1 Enoch 85–90. The interest of the Chronicle of the Esagila is focused on the relationship of the early Mesopotamian rulers to the cult of Marduk, and it is cast into the form of a letter from the Isin king Damiq-ilišu to a Babylonian king. The content of the letter was purportedly revealed to the author in a dream by the healing goddess Gula (Glassner 2004, p. 264). Both the cuneiform chronicle and the Enochic Animal Apocalypse are dream revelations that contain narratives about the early history of mankind. The Chronicle of the Esagila retells the Mesopotamian history in admonitory fashion demonstrating that all the kings who neglected the cult of Marduk lost their power. The first king whom the Chronicle mentions is Aka from the Kish dynasty, to whom Enmerkar of Uruk immediately follows (Glassner 2004, p. 266, line 41). This chronicle represents the Mesopotamian historiographical tradition, which started the world history from Kish, whence the kingship was transferred to the Eanna temple and Uruk.

Neither of these two cuneiform chronicles that mention Adapa refer to the antediluvian period, and, consequently, the sage features as a primordial human being in them. In this respect these texts are compatible with the Sumerian version of the Adaba myth, which points with the expression “after the flood had swept over” (eĝir a-ma-ru ba-ur₃-ra-ta) to the primordial setting of its narrative (Cavigneaux 2014, p. 17, line 4). This expression served as the mythological time reference of many Sumerian tales that related to the primordial epoch of human history. The antediluvian period was a concept of a different historiographic tradition in Mesopotamia, which shifted its focus from what had taken place after the primordial flood to the events that occurred before the flood (Chen 2012, p. 175).

There are literary indications that the concept of the antediluvian period emerged later in Mesopotamia than the notion of the primordial times “after the flood had swept over” (Chen 2012). The two earliest manuscripts of the chronographic work Sumerian King List contain neither references to the flood nor the antediluvian sections (Chen 2012, p. 177). In these tablets from the Ur III period, the formula “when kingship descended from heaven” introduces the primordial period when the first dynasty of kings ruled in Kish (Chen 2012, p. 167). Since the Old Babylonian period, the manuscripts of the Sumerian King List began to incorporate references to the flood and construct antediluvian dynasties (Chen 2012, p. 177). According to an older Sumerian historical tradition, the first dynasty on earth ruled in Kish “after the deluge swept over”, which expression of time reference is also used in the Sumerian Adaba myth (Cavigneaux 2014, p. 17, line 25). The earlier Sumerian tradition regarded the sage simply as primordial, but later Babylonian developments placed him in the antediluvian period.

In the Chronicle of the Esagila, the king Enmerkar is presented as a negative character, who neglected Marduk and to whom his sage Adapa taught a moral lesson. The tendency to see Enmerkar as a negative hero is detectable since the Old Babylonian Cuthean Legend of Naram-Sîn, which narrative counters the notion of Enmerkar as the inventor of cuneiform script (Katz 2017, p. 205). In the Chronicle of the Esagila, the king Enmerkar is presented as an immoral king, who violated the Babylonian standards, which are outlined as follows:

Whosoever offends the gods of this city (=Babylon), his star will not stand in the sky. […], his (?) kingship will be no more, his scepter will be taken away, his treasure will become a heap of [rubble].

(Glassner 2004, p. 267, lines 37–38)

According to the Chronicle of the Esagila, the star of the king who offended the gods of Babylon fell from the sky (Akkadian: kakkabušu ina šamê ul izazzi, line 37). This is comparable to the fall of the Watchers in the Animal Apocalypse who are described as stars who cast themselves down from heaven (1 Enoch 86). According to the Chronicle of the Esagila, after Enmerkar violated Babylon’s moral standards, the sage Adapa cursed him and brought about the king’s demise, whereas the sage himself received a promotion. The corresponding passage from the Chronicle of the Esagila is cited below in translation with my suggested reading for the line 46: [… DUMU u₄-a]n-na ki-ma ši-ṭir šá-ma-mi ú-ban-ni-ma ina É-sag-íl:

Enmerkar, king of Uruk, destroyed the liv[ing] creatures and [(Marduk) raised the troo]ps of Manda, which […]. The wise Adapa heard […] in his holy temple tower and cursed Enmerkar, [… and Mard]uk gave him the kingship over all the lands and his rites […]. He made [… the son of Oa]nnes beautiful like celestial writing in the Esagila. […] the king entrusted everything of the heavens and earth, (to) the firstborn son for 3020 years.

(Glassner 2004, pp. 266–67, lines 42–47)

Because of some tantalizing lacunae in the text, it is not clear to whom Marduk gives “rule over all the lands” (line 45). However, this cannot be anybody else than Adapa, and the passage quoted above is another reference to the sage’s exaltation. This high status of Adapa is further emphasized with his location “in his holy temple tower” (Akkadian: ina k]iṣṣišu elli, line 44). This passage represents a genuine Babylonian tradition that is related to Adapa’s elevation in heaven, which concept was later countered with narratives in the Jewish Enoch literature.

A comparable scenario is found in the part of 1 Enoch called the Animal Apocalypse, a dream revelation to Enoch in which he retells to his son Methuselah the world history beginning with Adam to the fall of Jerusalem. In this text, the early history of Genesis is retold in animal imagery, where the archangels descend to earth as falling stars (1 Enoch 86: 1, 3–5). Enoch has the following vision about the fall of the Watchers and the violence of the giants:

I saw the heaven above, and look, a star fell from heaven, and it arose and was eating and pasturing among those cattle. … And again I saw in the vision, and I looked to heaven, and look, I saw many stars descend and cast themselves down from heaven to that first star. And in the midst of those calves they became bulls, and they were pasturing with them in their midst. I looked at them and I saw and look, all of them let out their organs like horses, and they began to mount the cows of the bulls, and they all conceived and bore elephants and camels and asses. And all the bulls feared them and were terrified before them, and they began to bite with their teeth and devour and gore with their horns.

(Nickelsburg and VanderKam 2004, pp. 121–22)

This passage serves as a demonization of the Watchers and uses animal imagery for that purpose, which had a long history in cuneiform literature. The first inhabitants of the land were referred to as animal-like creatures and compared to sheep in some Sumerian literary compositions (Peterson 2018, pp. 39–40). According to Berossus, the first people of Babylonia “lived without discipline and order, just like animals” before the advent of Oannes (Verbrugghe and Wickersham 2000, p. 44). The Mesopotamian sages themselves had strong ties to demonology, and, as antediluvian beings, they were occasionally counted as demonic creatures with hybrid bodies of animal and bird-like parts (Annus 2010, pp. 304–8). In the Chronicle of the Esagila passage, Enmerkar destroyed the “living beings” (nammaššê) of Babylon, which is a reference to settlements of people. It was a grave sin that the subsequent text of Chronicle also attributes to Naram-Sin; therefore, both kings are punished by invading enemy hordes (Glassner 2004, p. 267). The designation used for Enmerkar’s mythological enemy is “[the troo]ps of Manda”, which emerges as an agent of punishment (Adalı 2011, pp. 71–72). This enemy has a demonic appearance in the Cuthean Legend of Naram-Sin, where Enmerkar is punished by the Manda troops, who possess bird-like features and are nourished by Marduk’s enemy Tiamat (Westenholz 1997, pp. 264, 309). The “Manda troops” was an expression in Mesopotamian historiographic literature used for the demonic enemy that came down from the mountains. The Manda forces could appear as hybrid creatures with animal forms, which conveys the image of a battle between animal troops similar to that of Animal Apocalypse.

This demonic imagery was much used in Mesopotamian historical narratives. In Assurbanipal’s dedicatory inscription to Marduk, the Cimmerian ruler Tugdammê is called “the king of Umman-Manda, the offspring of Tiamat, likeness of the [gallû]-demon” (Adalı 2011, p. 85). The Manda troops can be there to punish an impious king but would become in due time a “seed of destruction” itself (Adalı 2011, pp. 90–93). In the Animal Apocalypse, the heavenly Watchers are demonized as animals attacked by other animals, which is to emphasize their demonic character that is a part of its counter narrative about ancient Mesopotamian sages, whose iconography was often depicted as that of demonic beings (Annus 2010, pp. 304–8).

In the Chronicle of the Esagila, Adapa was elevated into the high temple tower to watch the battle between the wicked Enmerkar and the Manda forces. This episode can be favorably compared to the text in 1 Enoch 87: 2–4, where Enoch’s ascension is described in terms of raising to a high tower:

And I lifted my eyes again to heaven, and I saw in the vision, and look, there came forth from heaven (beings) with the appearance of white men; four came forth from that place and three with them. And those three who came after took hold of me by my hand and raised me from the generations of the earth, and lifted me onto a high place, and they showed me a tower high above the earth, and all the hills were smaller. And they said to me, ‘Stay here until you see all that happens to those elephants and camels and asses and to the stars and to the cattle and all of them’.

(Nickelsburg and VanderKam 2004, p. 122)

During Enmerkar’s battle against animal-like enemies in the Chronicle of the Esagila, Adapa curses the king. Subsequently, the “son of Oannes” is made beautiful “like celestial writing in the Esagila”. This also runs in parallel with the Animal Apocalypse because Noah is transformed into an angel in it (1 Enoch 89: 1): “It was born a bull but became a man” (Nickelsburg and VanderKam 2004, p. 123). Because all mankind is depicted as animals in the Animal Apocalypse, this transformation is equal to immortalization (Reynolds 2011, pp. 168–73). Although there is no flood story in the Chronicle of the Esagila, the “son of Oannes” was equated with the flood survivor in Babylonia; therefore, the Animal Apocalypse uses Adapa’s elevation as a template for the angelification of Noah. The Enochic Animal Apocalypse uses the literary motifs that are also known from the Chronicle of the Esagila to describe the course of the early history of humankind.

The reading for the partially broken line 46, “he made [… the son of Oa]nnes beautiful like celestial writing” suggests that, according to a genuine Mesopotamian tradition, the “son of Oannes” assumed his cultic residence during the reign of Enmerkar. This was originally a tradition of Uruk that was only later associated with Babylonia (Annus 2016, p. 30). In the Old Babylonian period, when Babylon emerged as the new power center and Marduk was genealogically associated with the gods of Eridu, the novel historiographical trend began to attribute the origin of civilization to the antediluvian city of Eridu, which was implicitly identified with Babylon. As a part of this transformation, Babylon and her main temple in the Chronicle of the Esagila also represent Enki’s house in Eridu because the two cities were often theologically equated, even thought to be the same place (George 1992, pp. 251–53). According to Babylonian ideology, all important theological traditions of other cities were transferred to Babylon. Babylon as the cosmic capital absorbed the traditions of Eridu, Nippur, Uruk, and all other important Mesopotamian cities (George 1997).

6. Conclusions

The different layers of literary works from all periods of the Ancient Near East have retained something from their predecessors by way of a creative literary transmission. Variation, not stable text, was the rule in the corpus of narratives, which struggled with one another for a dominant position. Many foundational narratives began their existence as the counter stories or alternative readings of more ancient master narratives. The relationship between Babylonian and Israelite historical narratives was often antagonistic, where the conflict in a world view was rather the rule than exception.

The nature of a relationship between the Mesopotamian narratives and the later Israelite texts as that of “master” and “counter” narratives can be difficult to establish and even more arduous to prove. In the contrastive analysis of similar narratives, the differences are more significant than commonalities. The texts, which seem to be faithful to the prevalent master narrative, may hide the details that tell a completely different story. These similarities and differences must be analyzed in regard to their presumed status of a master narrative, a counter story, or an alternative story (Nelson 2001).

The story of the Watchers circulated in many different versions within Judaism. It can be plausibly argued that the different scenarios of the account were developed on the basis of cultural narratives about the Mesopotamian apkallus (Annus 2010). The mythological concept concerning the antediluvian sages held the figure of Adapa in high esteem. The status of Uan/Adapa as the foremost among the antediluvian sages is critically reflected over in Jewish narratives concerning Enoch and Noah, which often took over motifs from Babylonian texts either through appropriation or a counter narrative (Annus 2022).

The Enochic Animal Apocalypse rewrites the first chapters of Genesis using the animal imagery, which is a subversive way to reproduce the sacred history. The apocalypse sets out as an alternative or counter narrative in regard to Genesis, indicating that the author felt oneself uncomfortable within traditional Judaism. The author of the Enochic Animal Apocalypse uses the imagery from cuneiform historical literature with admonitory character like the legends of Naram-Sin and the Chronicle of the Esagila and applies its motifs to retell the first chapters of Genesis. In Akkadian literature, the animal imagery is found in the royal epics and inscriptions, where such figures serve to emphasize the demonic character of the enemy.

The Animal Apocalypse in 1 Enoch uses the Babylonian story about the elevation of the “son of Oannes”, which is applied to Noah in a vision seen by Enoch. In the Animal Apocalypse, all early biblical figures except Enoch, Noah, and Moses are depicted as having irreversible animal characters. Where the Animal Apocalypse is partly dependent on the ancient Babylonian traditions, it is already written in the context of a sectarian Judaism in which these three figures were considered more important than all others.