Reading the Myths Aright, Part III: On the Wrathful Dispersion of People and Tongues

In this essay I will continue to mine a vein that I have exposed over the past couple of installments in this blog: that of “species memory,” which might also be thought of as “cultural memory.” I believe there are echoes of watershed events in the human saga preserved in ancient texts such as the Bible, often reworked so extensively that it takes some “reading between the lines” to tease them out. It seems to me that in the Genesis myths alone we hear several such echoes. I think it might be useful at this point to spill a little metaphorical ink over the question of how the Bible came to be in the first place, before continuing with the story of the wrathful confusion of languages.

Around 1000 BCE, a bunch of quarreling Palestinian tribes were welded into a bona fide, if short-lived, kingdom by a warlord named David, who had clawed his way to power by toppling another chieftain named Saul. In order to accomplish this political coup and guarantee his hegemony, David used the time-honored means of treachery, brute force and propaganda. The propaganda took the form of stories that were crafted by the priests who supported the Davidic monarchy and profited from their loyalty.

Those priests were members of a tribe known as “Levites,” who had invented quite a few elaborate ceremonies guaranteed to strike awe into the hearts of onlookers and cow them into submission. Priests whose stories told of a miraculous deliverance from Egyptian bondage – an exodus led by a Levite who escorted God’s chosen people to the Promised Land, receiving God’s laws along the way. (It’s no accident that those priests were rewarded handsomely for their efforts: witness the lavish “inheritance” they wrote for themselves into God’s law, as outlined in the books of Numbers and Joshua. Even during hard times, the Levites ate well.) Those stories were filled with dire warnings and cautionary tales. They recounted the conquest of uncooperative Palestinian tribes by the victorious “armies of God,” led by such genocidal luminaries as Joshua. They included tales of David’s own rise to power. Those stories – pure fictions, all – were intended to cobble together previously fractious tribes into a band of brothers presided over by a single monarch. Serendipitously, they also came to form the core of what Christians revere as the Bible: all else is later encrustation.

The priests who concocted these accounts drew on a number of extant legends from the region; they also added a lot of tales from their own (mostly invented) experience. The stories of the Fall, the Flood and the Tower of Babel are all borrowed stories, reworked to fit the narrative that the Levites wished for the tribes of Palestine, thereafter to be known as “David’s kingdom,” to adopt as their sacred history.
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We Sit Atop the Tower Babel, Fearless and Alone.

Welcome to Babel version 2.0

Weary we rest, the tower rebuilt, and a universal scientific language desperately tries to coalesce the minds of all who would listen; “…and this they begin to do: and now nothing will be restrained from them, which they have imagined to do.”  From the tower floors we search, be it jets cascading the gentle cloudy sky, to satellites drifting through the silent shadows of the moon, from behind the lens of the Hubble Space Telescope searching the oldest light in the universe, and through distant radio transmissions of the space craft Voyager carrying with it a golden record of our short existence thus far in the cosmos.

 

In a book of fear: fear of a jealous lord god, fear of capricious divine power, and fear of eternal consequence for the simple crime of thought, we have a case quite startling. Does god fear humanity, it’s own creation? Does god really have the power to will the universe into existence, yet tremble when human kind reaches for the clouds? Does god fail to posses knowledge that even though humanity could reach the earthly sky and beyond, they would never find him? How trivial, the impulse to destroy and scatter, I declare this “creator of worlds.”
Continue reading “We Sit Atop the Tower Babel, Fearless and Alone.”