I was reading about ancient Near Eastern religions for my Intro to the Hebrew Scriptures class and the author was summarizing and commenting on the Epic of Gilgamesh (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Epic_of_Gilgamesh). It was pretty much familiar review from when I learned about the epic tale my first quarter at UCSB, but the author wrote this and it grabbed my attention:
“The epic, however, developed over many centuries. Its relation to history may be similar to that of Homer’s epics, which also have a starting point in history but are essentially works of fiction and imagination.”
I added the emphasis because that was the section that caught my eye. Just a few pages earlier, the author made a wise note regarding myth. He wrote:
“The word myth is derived from the Greek mythos, or story, but is used especially for sacred stories, or traditional stories deemed to have religious import. In modern English usage, myth is often opposed to factual truth, but this is unfortunate, as it makes it difficult to take myths seriously.”
Taking these two parts in, I was then reminded of these song lyrics from Saul Williams, a prolific poet-rapper:
Mind over matter
Minds create matter
Minds create fiction
As a matter of fact
As if matter were fact
Matter is fact
So spirit much be fiction
Science fiction
Art fiction meta fiction
When considering something as universal and transcendent as the human condition, it strikes me as interesting that myths, which the author rightly spoke of as not false simply because they aren’t historical, are essentially works of fiction and imagination. Fiction as opposed to non-fiction. That something matters if its historical, but no longer matters when imagination and fiction become the stories’ essentials. I am not presuming the author of this basic introduction to Near Eastern religions meant the Epic of Gilgamesh is essentially fictitious in a pejorative way, but since Mr. John J. Collins didn’t qualify his remark at all, it leaves the door open for a predominant reading via the historical-critical eye. And we all know that this means we need to strip the fictional and imaginary away to get to that historical seed. But I ask then, if the Epic of Gilgamesh and the Homeric Epics are essentially works of fiction and imagination, how does it benefit us to eviscerate the very essence of the stories?
The communal enterprise of exploring and understanding the human condition is one that needs the multiplicity of perspectives of history and humanity’s diversity. Science is not the means to discovering the why, but it is a beautiful means to discovering the hows, the whats, the whens, etc. So to turn to a method of historical analysis that roots itself in “objective” readings of something like a myth, which “is unfortunate, as it makes it difficult to take myths seriously,” we then lose sight of the connection we have to those who come before us, are present with us, and will come after us. The desire of Gilgamesh to gain immortality speaks to the human desire to escape the tendrils of toil and trial, to liberate ourselves from the mortality that all too often seems to assert centrality in our views of ourselves as a species. I find it telling that Gilgamesh loses the plant that would grant him eternal life via a stealthy serpent, much as Adam and Eve lose out on their blissful immortality due to a sneaky snake. There is a common thread of life forevermore being in humanity’s grasp, but then being lost. Something had, but no longer. A treasure tasted, but now craved. That essential desire has no historical point of reference. That quintessentially human insight has no empirical evidence. It is the work of imagination. It is the work of wrestling with experience and yearning in the face of pain and loss. It is the human condition. It is essential.
