Showing posts with label Sacred Tree. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sacred Tree. Show all posts

Wednesday, 23 December 2020

At Reality's Edge

 

[Some notes I made while I was writing up The Mathematical Origins of the Megalithic Yard in early 2020. The notes conclude with some observations of the importance of the idea of limit in Mesopotamia, and its connection with the Assyrian Sacred Tree, and their notion of kingship.  I could have finished up with a short discussion of Egyptian interest in the idea of limit, particularly since we know (from the Rhind Papyrus) that they used the same method of calculation of Euler's number as in ancient Britain. That discussion with follow later.]


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It has been twenty two days since I started to write up the article ‘The Mathematical Origins of the Megalithic Yard’ (mid February 2020). In this article, I suggested that those who designed the. circles came to the idea of the megalithic yard of 2.72 feet as the consequence of an interest in infinite series, and particularly those which approach a limit. The most important of these limits is the one which is known as Euler’s number, which, when rounded up from 2.7218… is 2.72.

This limit was first noticed in relatively modern times in the context of the calculation of compound interest, but the number, and the process by which it is arrived at, can be found in many other contexts.

Effectively, the number (when worked out to thousands of places), is the number as it would be found at infinity. So it can stand as an indicator of ultimate limit and of infinity. It is associated with the idea of ‘one’, as I’ve discussed in the article, and also as an irrational equivalent of one, which is a rational whole number.

An irrational counterpart to ‘one’, in a proto-pythagorean community, would have been easy to understand as belonging to a world beyond this one – i.e., a transcendent reality which is more perfect than this world, which is full of irrationality and measures which are incommensurable. The number may have been understood as being irrational to us because it is being represented in our finite world, and not irrational.

It also stood for the edge of our reality, and therefore would have signified the possibility of a joining between the transcendent reality, and our world of physical reality. Finding ways in which the worlds could be joined, and the incommensurate made commensurate, seems to have been a major preoccupation in the Neolithic, as it was also to philosophers and mathematicians in Greece during the second half of the first millennium BCE.

After I finished the article, I wondered how difficult it is to construct a series which will arrive at Euler’s number, how it might have been done, and how long it would take to come to the result.

A little research showed that there were many ways to construct suitable series of numbers, and a geometric calculation could produce a reasonable approximation reasonably quickly, without enormous calculations.  

 We don’t know for certain what base was used for calculations in the British Neolithic, but they were certainly aware of base 10, since they used powers of ten in their construction (ie, instead of a 3,4,5 triangle, they would sometimes use 30,40, 50 as their measures, knowing that the sides would be similarly commensurate after squaring). If they were using the English foot as their basic measure, it is likely they were counting to base 12 (ie, in duodecimal). But the construction of a series only requires whole numbers, arranged as fractions.

1 + 1/100000)^100000 = 2.7182682371923

100,000 is a lot of iterations, so it is unlikely that the determination was done in this way. The process will result in Euler’s number with any consistently generated series.

It can be done geometrically, which is much more practical, and is probably the technique which was used in the Neolithic. Using a sequence such as:

1/2  +  1/4  +  1//8  +  1/16  + ... = 1



Those who generated such a geometrical figure did so knowing that the series converged on a limit from observing the initial results. What they wanted was to find out a reasonably accurate value for the limit itself. The square could therefore be of any size (read as the value ‘one’), and might well have been created in a large field, with the fractions indicated by small stones.

I’ve written elsewhere about the importance given to limits and boundaries in ancient Assyria and Babylonia, particularly in connection with sites connected with the gods, and the rituals for the installation of the gods in Heaven. Sometimes aspects of the design of the Assyrian Sacred Tree were unwrapped, and represented on pavings as lotuses, alternately open and closed. Which is a way of indicating at these edge points that both possibilities are open, and even perhaps that opposing states are commensurate with each other in infinity.

It has already been identified that the Sacred Tree represents a form of limit, and consequently of the nature of divinity which has its true existence in a world beyond the constraints of finitude.  The design of the alternating lotuses also was used to separate the registers of images adjoining the collosal Lamassu statues which guarded the entrances of royal palaces. There was an image of the sacred tree, with two winged genies behind Assurbanipal’s throne, which seems to indicate that the king was understood to embody the transcendent reality which lies behind the world of the here and now.[the identification of the king with the divine reality appears in various royal letters] He is the perfect man, and the very image of God

[March 8, 2020]

 

[ Minor text corrections, Jan 1, 2021]

Thursday, 30 August 2018

At the very Edge: Marking Transition and Transformation in Antiquity





One of the principal themes of my work is the importance accorded to the idea and the function of limit in ancient thought. Discussion of the idea of limit (and the unlimited) can be found in early Greek philosophy, and limit is a key idea in both Mesopotamian and Roman civilization. However currently it is not a major focus of interest for scholars, and so its importance is scarcely understood. 

Here are pointers to seven texts which discuss the significance of the idea of limit in antiquity. 

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'The Threshold in Ancient Assyria'. http://shrineinthesea.blogspot.com/2018/08/the-threshold-in-ancient-assyria.html?spref=tw The chapter is based on pioneering research by the scholar Pauline Albenda.

[From The Origins of Transcendentalism in Ancient Religion (forthcoming)]

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 'The Divine and the Limit' http://shrineinthesea.blogspot.com/2015/05/the-divine-and-limit.html?spref=tw …  explores the prominence of Janus in the ritual life of the Romans. In the songs of the Salii (‘jumpers’ or dancers) he was called the good creator, and the god of gods; he is elsewhere named the oldest of the gods and the beginning of all things. The king, and in later times the rex sacrōrum, sacrificed to him. At every sacrifice he was remembered first; in every prayer he was the first invoked, being mentioned even before Jupiter. He is especially associated with the idea of limit, which is a preoccupation of a number of ancient cultures.

[From Understanding Ancient Thought (2017)]

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Being, Kabbalah, and the Assyrian Sacred Tree http://shrineinthesea.blogspot.co.uk/2015/11/being-kabbalah-and-assyrian-sacred-tree.html  The Assyrian Sacred Tree appears to be associated with the ideas of divine being and also with the idea of limit. The explanation for such an association is that the Mesopotamians conceived divinity to be at the limit of that which is. The parallels between the Kabbalah and the Assyrian Sacred Tree were uncovered by the Assyriologist Simo Parpola in the 1990s. This was achieved using the god numbers which the Mesopotamians used to reference their gods. 

[an extract from The Sacred History of Being (2015)]

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'Ocean and the Limit of Existence' http://shrineinthesea.blogspot.com/2017/03/ocean-and-limit-of-existence.html?spref=tw There are similar ideas associated with Ocean in Europe and in the Ancient Near East. These parallels, and the concepts which underpin them, are explored in this chapter. 

[a full chapter from The Sacred History of Being (2015)]

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'Remarks on the Telos (and other lost ideas)' https://t.co/FBciqYgSWk  We recognise only one cause in the modern world, which is the efficient cause. This is concerned with work, energy and power. In antiquity Aristotle described four causes, which are discussed here. Did Aristotle conjure these by himself, or were these concepts understood across the civilised world for centuries before Classical Greece?

[From the chapter: 'Aristotle’s Four Causes' in: Understanding Ancient Thought (2017)]

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'The Esoteric Conception of Divinity in the Ancient World' http://shrineinthesea.blogspot.com/2015/12/the-esoteric-conception-of-divinity-in.html  In my twenties, I was struck by the strong interest the ancients had in the idea of limit – in art, architecture, philosophy, and ritual. This interest did not much seem to engage modern scholarly attention, with a couple of notable exceptions. Initially I had no idea at all what the significance of the idea of limit might be, and no idea where pursuing it would take me. Or that it would lead to a book it would take me four years to write, and which would reframe my understanding of human intellectual history in the process.

[Some extracts from the essay: 'The Esoteric Conception of Divinity in the Ancient World', in Man and the Divine (2018)] 

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'The Making and Renewal of the Gods in Ancient Assyria.' https://t.co/6CMNzMiGw2 We have good information about the installation and refurbishment of the gods in Assyrian temples from Esarhaddon, who ruled Assyria before his son Ashurbanipal. Such operations were agreed (via diviners present in the workshop of the gods) with the relevant divinities beforehand (principally Shamash, the sun god), and the omens were cross-checked for accuracy. The full strangeness of what we now know renders a lot of previous anthropological interpretation horribly out of date.

[a full chapter from The Sacred History of Being (2015)]

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'Installing the Gods in Heaven: the Babylonian Mis Pi Ritual' http://shrineinthesea.blogspot.com/2015/11/the-babylonian-mis-pi-ritual.html?spref=tw … This extract contains analysis and commentary on one of the surviving descriptions of the ritual found in Ashurbanipal's library during excavations. Boundaries and limits serve an important function at key moments of the three day ritual. 

[An extract from the chapter 'The Babylonian Mis Pi Ritual', from The Sacred History of Being (2015)]

TY, August 30, 2018




Sunday, 26 February 2017

Being and Representation in Greece and Assyria





This is a discussion of the argument and significance of The Sacred History of Being, published in November 2015. The essential argument of the book is that, in both Greece and Assyria, knowledge was conceived to exist in Being itself, and as a consequence, all true knowledge was knowledge of the Divine. The cultural apparatus of both states can be understood to have been built on that conception. 

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The argument of The Sacred History of Being is complex and necessarily discursive, since its purpose is to uncover an ancient implex of ideas which was almost always discursively expressed, whether in the course of argument, in the formation of myth, liturgy, or ritual, and was, for the most part, conjured in terms of images. The argument however has a clear focus, which is the consistent reference point of these images - that which does not change - and secondarily the body of ideas which grew up around this notion of a reality which is beyond all merely human understanding.

We know that this idea was pursued in Greece, in particular by Plato, who was 'always looking to the one thing.' This 'one thing' has been very difficult for students of Plato to disinter, since it seemed to be hedged about with logical difficulties which, not least, cast considerable doubt on the possibility of there ever being something which could be referred to as the 'one thing.'

This difficulty isn't simply the result of the coy and often allusive way in which Plato discusses the relationship between the world of change and the world of unchanging reality. It also has something to do with us, and the weight of cultural baggage which we bring to bear on certain questions. We read Plato with many assumptions.

It is also the case that we do not read Plato (or any Greek philosophical writer for that matter) in cultural context. The Platonic canon is about philosophy, and philosophy is currently treated, almost universally, as a subject which can be abstracted from its original context without any significant damage to its meaning or worth. What that original cultural context is, is difficult to determine.
I have attempted to turn this assumption on its head. The Platonic canon belongs very precisely in its cultural context, and we do damage to our capacity to understand both Plato, and the culture to which the canon belongs, by breaking these connections without any grasp of what is lost.

The culture of Greece in the 5th and 4th centuries B.C.E is generally interpreted by classicists in terms of something which happened in isolation from other cultures around the Mediterranean, because it is assumed that the culture of Greece is, in essence, an autocthonous development. The loss this creates for our understanding of all of the cultures of the first millennium B.C.E - including Greece itself - is colossal. Greek intellectual life is relatively well documented when compared with other cultures around the Mediterranean; but rather than using one to illuminate the other, the classicist and philosophical communities assume that they are so far apart, no meaningful comparisons can be made. 

 I have attempted to stand this assumption on its head too, by comparison with aspects of the culture of the Neo-Assyrian empire. Some key details of Greek thought and religious life, which are entirely missing from the record, are documented in Assyria (and in Babylonia) in the mid-1st millennium B.C.E. In writing about the Forms, Plato is, as a key passage indicates to us, also writing about divine statuary and their cultic function. The Forms, as discussed in the canon, reflect a hierarchy which leads to the contemplation of the 'one thing.' This one thing Plato referred to as 'The Good'. This is the ground of Being, or reality itself. All of the Forms participate in some way in Being, and represent aspects of it. Being is conceived by Plato to be the home of real knowledge, and this knowledge can be accessed via the hierarchy of Forms, contemplated in the mind. The Forms represent perfect or ideal approximations to the perfection of Being itself, and provide the access route.

Assyria too possessed the ultimate abstract idea of Being also, some considerable time before Plato wrote about the idea. We know this because of the close relationship which has been established between the structure of the Kabbalah and the Assyrian sacred tree, which is represented many times in royal palaces and on seals. The Assyrians regarded the pursuit of knowledge as an essential component of kingship, which we know about from several sources, including a personal account of the scribal training of Ashurbanipal. The wider training of the king involved the pursuit of excellence in various skills. The king was understood to represent divine Being on earth.

'Looking to one thing' was also essential to the Assyrians, since they too conceived that knowledge resided in transcendent Being, which, they called by many different names. One of the principle images of Being is the undersea Abzu, the home of Ea, the god of wisdom. This is the place where generation is made possible, and where the destinies are determined. Assyrian rituals for inaugurating divine statues invoke the beginning of creation in the Abzu, and feature a long series of images which repeatedly point toward this idea of Being. And in order for a statue to become a living being in heaven, it must be (and is) granted the wide knowledge of Ea himself.

Plato's account of the creation involves the use of an image of Being as a pattern for the generation of the world. This image of Being was used by the Demiourgos to pattern the heavens, with its constellations and moving planets. It is therefore striking that the making of a divine statue in Assyria involves a ritual which exposes the statue to the heavens in order that it may have knowledge of the divine. The parallel Babylonian ritual goes into more detail about the aspects of the heavens which impart divine knowledge to the new god.

In both Assyria and Greece generation is associated with the sea. In both cases the sea is understood as an image of the limit of reality - Okeanos, the encircling ocean in the case of Greece, and the upper and lower sea, in the case of Assyria. It is the limit which is significant, and which gives rise to the image of it. Plato has much to say about the transcendent realm of The Good, in which Forms can have no location, size, shape or colour. The limit appears as the site of generation in Assyrian ritual in the form of the riverbank, which was regarded as the gateway to the Abzu and its threshold. Similarly therefore, in Assyria, generation is understood to emerge from a place which has no location, size, shape or colour. The pure reeds of the riverbank are stated to have their roots in the Abzu.

The precise nature of the cultural relationship between the cult of knowledge in Greece and in Assyria, is currently unclear, apart from the obvious parallels. It will take time and effort to clarify this. But we do know that another important philosophical idea was held in common both in Greece and in Mesopotamia, and we know the nature of the doctrine which emerges from it.  This is the doctrine of wholes or totalities, which we are told was acquired by Pythagoras while he was in Babylon. This doctrine concerns how ideas and forms can participate in one another. It seems like a small thing, outside its proper context. But the doctrine has huge importance in understanding ancient philosophical theology, and indeed in knowing that it existed at all. Anything which is whole, or total in some respect, was understood to participate in wholeness or totality itself. Being was understood in both cultures as a form of totality. In fact in both cultures, it was understood as the entirely transcendent form of totality.

Plato employs this doctrine in his account of the creation, and it is the means by which it is possible for one thing to pass into another, as he tells us. So the creation of wholes and totalities is of key importance. The Forms are wholes, and point to the totality at the root of reality.

It is possible to understand the consequence of the presence of this idea in Mesopotamia, because it is possible, with some teasing out, to understand the consequence of its presence in Greece. Which is that if the ground of Being is transcendent totality, then all other things which possess totality are in some way connected with it, and can be understood as representations of it. This is part of the logical basis for the creation of divine statues. But only part.

The transcendent totality is a plenitude, but it is ungenerated, and so it has no size. It contains the potential for all creation. It is one alone, because otherwise it would be other than it is. And yet Plato speaks of God creating a copy of Being, after which the world was patterned. If a copy of Being was created, then Being would be divided, not whole, and not what it is. It would have been subject to change, which is contrary to its very definition. And yet if it does not exist in the world of change, then it can do nothing. Movement and thought would be impossible. This would be a disastrous state of affairs for any cult which placed knowledge at the heart of Being.

Plato's argumentation about Being is unlike any other from Anselm onwards, in that he identifies Being with the nature of reality itself. Anselm and Descartes speak of supposed properties and attributes of the divine, but since they are attempting proof of the reality of God (framed in terms of some kind of existence), rather than proof of the realness of reality, there is an implicit and unaddressed separation between the divine and the nature of reality in their arguments. There is no sense in either case that the divine is absolutely dependent on the nature of reality.

Plato does not tell us how the paradox of one Being, who is necessarily two for the generation of the world of movement and change, and therefore not real Being, is resolved, nor does he resolve for us the question of whether or not the unchanging divine can be present in the world of movement and change.  What he does do is to proceed with the discussions, on the basis that it is necessarily so, that, somehow, the generated world is patterned after a representation of Being;  and that it must be the case that the divine can, somehow,  be present in the world of movement and change.

If we turn over in our minds the idea that the world is patterned after Being, without its essential nature being compromised, which is totality, alone and undivided, there is only one possible rational logical solution: that the world of movement and change is not, in reality, separated out from the nature of Being. What we see are aspects of Being itself, represented to us in various ways which are available to our capacity to perceive.

Language here does not serve us well, but essentially the logical conclusion must be that, if the essential nature of Being is to retain its integral nature, the world of movement and change is illusory. It has no reality apart from Being. Indeed, there is no such thing as existence 'apart' from Being: Being and the generated world are in some way coterminous.  The world we see and live in is a perception, no more and no less, contained entirely within unchanging Being, and composed of elements and aspects of Being. It is a perceptible world, rather than real; an immensely complex illusion generated within a reality which has no location, extension, shape or colour.

The consequence of this - and this is the crux of the matter - is that though Being retains its essential unchanging nature, and remains always purely is what it is, the generated world must have a double nature. That is, the world of generation is finite, and contains finite things, but it also necessarily contains things which are infinite. These things which relate to the infinite are the completions and perfections, and the other things which participate in the ground of Being. As finitudes, as conceivable images, they belong in the generated world as representations of the divine reality. Considered as representations of Being, they represent what we can understand of the divine, but they must necessarily also be Being itself, and be able to pass in and out of Being. Though we necessarily perceive these images as representations, unless we have profound knowledge of the divine.

It turns out therefore that we can add Plato to the list of ancient philosophers who were addressing reality as a paradoxical phenomenon. That changes quite a lot. It changes our understanding of the Greek mind, and our understanding of Greek culture.

We get some idea of the logic of divine images, their creation and worship, from this perception of reality and the world we live in as a paradoxical matrix. Things necessarily exist in two potential states. Secular and divine. Finite and infinite. Changeable and unchangeable. Sacred and Profane. These two states exist at the same time. It is a matter of understanding, which allows us to know that what belongs to the secular world, is also divine; that what is finite is also infinite; that what is subject to change also belongs to the realm of the unchanging; and that we can find elements of the sacred in the profane.  And, since the world of change is an illusion, so too are living and generated beings.

Formerly I've contrasted reality itself with the world of existence, which is, according to this way of looking at things, not truly real. It is sometimes useful to look at this contrast the other way round, in which the transcendently real world is the only one which has existence. This makes it possible to characterise the world of space and time as one which does not have real existence, only the appearance of existence to us.

However real things and people seem to be in space and time, they come to be and pass away, and do not abide. We think it has real existence of a kind because it has a form of consistency about it, in that physical laws exist and operate in it, and mathematics and geometry apply. This makes it possible to understand it in terms of a form of reality which has the property of objective existence, which is not dependent on mind. Mind observes it, according to this view, but it has existence apart from mind. 

Which brings us to the concept of necessity (anangke), which is key to the understanding of the natural world and the cosmos in Greece. Things which come to be and pass away are subject to it, as well as the objects which move in the heavens. Necessity refers to that force which determines how things behave which are not subject to the operation of the human will. So plants come forth and bloom, human beings are subject to divinely determined fate and destiny, and the planets move inexorably along their paths in the sky. The world of generation is characterised by the presence of necessity: it is a mark of things which have been generated, as opposed to those things which are aspects of unchanging Being.  But this property of the finite is necessarily determined by the infinite, as things which are finite are generated by it. They are patterned accordingly.

Greece shares with Assyria the notion that fate is all powerful, and that the destinies of both men and gods have been decreed at the moment of creation. In both cases however, fate and destiny are decreed by the transcendent divine, for the reason that the world of movement and change is an illusion contained within unchanging Being itself. It necessarily contains within it the start and the finish of all things which may take place in the secular view of reality. And Being determines these, according to its nature.

Maintaining this view of the division between the real world and the world of illusion, it follows that only the properties and attributes of Being are truly real, and truly existent. So, Being itself is real and existent, and its representations are also real, owing to their possession of its properties and attributes (by virtue of the fact that they are wholes and totalities, etc.). According to this view, things which have come to be are patterned after Being itself, and the Forms, which have divine properties as representations of Being.

In assembling lists of things which are pure, which have a common property, or a genealogy of the gods with their properties laid out as epithets which define their perfections and responsibilities, ancient scholars were also listing those things which they understood to be real and to have real existence, and which pointed to the place of creation. By contrast the world of generation contains mainly approximations to those truly real and existent things. These approximations to what is real however can be made perfect by skill, application and the pursuit of divine knowledge, and perfection and divine status can also be accorded to things and individuals by those who already have this knowledge.

By a short extension of this idea, it follows that those beings who live in the generated world have their true existence somewhere else. They are born into existence according to their destiny, and leave at the appointed time. Looked at from this point of view, death can be understood as a return to the place where the essential nature of the individual has its reality.

None of the foregoing implies belief of any sort. All of it may be teased out of the argument Plato makes about the nature of reality. This outlook is best understood as a doctrinal view, based on logical and philosophical discussion. It would have been subject to questions from neophytes and other philosophers; and would have been occasionally refreshed by interaction with those who understood similar doctrines from other places and cultures.

The normative view of religion in Israel for the first half of the first millennium B.C.E is that there was present a form of monotheistic culture and belief, engaged in a struggle with polytheistic ideas within Israel, and with Israel's neighbours in Mesopotamia. In fact we know almost nothing of religion in Israel in that period: there is no solid evidence which can give us reliable information. According to the redacted documents in the Old Testament, dating from the middle years of the  first millennium, it is clear that there was a protracted political struggle taking place for hearts and minds at some point, but most of the objections to polytheism seem to relate to experience of Mesopotamian religious cult and their ideas concerning the gods. Much of this valuable information may therefore post-date the Babylonian exile. 'Thou shall have no other gods before me' might be understood as a purely Israelite sentiment. However, 'I am that which is,' and 'I do not change,' (Malachi) references a philosophical notion of the divine, which we can now see is present in the context of the Mesopotamian divine pantheon.

Parts two and three of The Sacred History of Being were written first, with the umbrella title of 'Being and Representation in Greece and Assyria.' I came to realise in the course of writing that it was important to make it clear that later discussions of the divine in the early modern period were addressing a much more limited set of concepts of the nature of the divine, though these also represented an important subset of discussion of the nature of Being in Greece and Assyria. This early modern discussion represents a significant obstacle in understanding ideas about the divine in the ancient world.
Thomas Yaeger, 9th April 2015.

Wednesday, 25 November 2015

Being, Kabbalah, and the Assyrian Sacred Tree



[This is an extract from the chapter 'Being, Kabbalah, and the Assyrian Sacred Tree' in The Sacred History of Being, published November 2, 2015]



Stylised trees were part of the iconography of religion in ancient Mesopotamia, as far back as the fourth millennium. By the second millennium B.C.E., the image of the tree 'is found everywhere within the orbit of the ancient Near Eastern oikumene, including Egypt, Greece, and the Indus civilisation’. While its precise religious significance has been unclear, Simo Parpola suggests that ‘its overall composition strikingly recalls the Tree of Life of later Christian, Jewish, Muslim and Buddhist art.’ The implication being that there is some kind of cultural continuity behind the progress of this symbol.  [i]

The symbol, as it interests us here, dates from around the middle of the second millennium B.C.E. At about that time there is a new development of the symbol of the tree. The Late Assyrian form of the Tree appeared during the reign of Tukulti-Ninurta I, of the thirteenth century B.C.E. The rise of the Neo-Assyrian Empire in the first millennium spread the symbol throughout the Near East, and it survived until the end of the millennium. This form of the tree is the one most familiar to students of Assyriology and those who have visited the Assyrian galleries in the British Museum, with its garland of cones, pomegranates, or palmates surrounding either the crown of the tree, or its trunk. The importance of this symbol is made clear by the fact that it appears on royal garments, jewelry, official seals, as well as the royal wall paintings and sculptures found in the royal palaces. Indeed in the famous throne-room of Ashurnasirpal II (now in the British Museum), it is the central motif, standing directly behind the throne.  [ii]  There are literally hundreds of examples of the Late Assyrian Tree motif, and they exhibit a wide degree of variation.  [iii]  However Parpola argues that ‘its characteristic features stand out even in the crudest examples and make it generally easy to distinguish it from its predecessors’. He describes it as follows:

Essentially it consists of a trunk with a palmette crown standing on the stone base and surrounded by a network of horizontal or intersecting lines fringed with palmettes, pinecones, or pomegranates. In more elaborate renditions, the trunk regularly has joints or nodes at its top, middle, and base and a corresponding number of small circles to the right and left of the trunk. Antithetically posed animal, human, or supernatural figures usually flank the tree, while a winged disk hovers over the whole.

Until the publication of Parpola’s paper, despite painstaking analyses of this symbol, very little was found to explain its meaning and function, largely due to the fact that there is an almost total lack of textual evidence concerning the tree. Some work by the Assyriologist Irene Winter however has shown that the Tree represents the divine world order, and that the Assyrian king maintained this order on earth as the vice-regent of the god Aššur.  [iv]  Parpola points out that the observation was made some time ago that the king may take the place of the Tree between the winged genies, and that ‘whatever the precise implications of this fact, it is evident that in such scenes the king is portrayed as the human personification of the Tree.  [v]  As personification of the Tree, then the king represented the ‘realization of that order in man… a true image of God, and the ‘Perfect Man’.  [vi]

Parpola argues that the Tree symbol in Assyria had a dual function in Assyrian Imperial art. As well as symbolizing the divine world order which the Assyrian king maintained, it could also relate to the king, resulting in his portrayal as the Perfect Man. This would account for the prominence of the Tree as an imperial symbol, providing legitimation for the rule of Assyria, and justification of the king as absolute ruler.  [vii]

Since there are no references to such an important symbol in contemporary written sources, this ‘can only mean that the doctrines relating to the Tree were never committed to writing by the scholarly elite who forged the imperial ideology but were circulated orally.’  [viii]  Parpola also suggests this implies a stratification of knowledge in Assyria, and that ‘only the basic symbolism of the Tree was common knowledge, while the more sophisticated details of its interpretation were accessible to a few select initiates only.  [ix]

Parpola argues that ‘the strictly esoteric nature of Kabbalah and the fact that its secret doctrines were for centuries, and still are, transmitted almost exclusively orally are the principal reasons why next to nothing was known about it until the late Middle Ages. The esotericism of Kabbalah and its fundamentally oral nature are stressed in every Kabbalistic work, ancient and modern’. He suggests that beyond the parallel of an esoteric and oral aspect to both Mesopotamian and Kabbalistic lore, there is also a strong parallel between the Assyrian Tree and the Sefirotic Tree.  [x]  He also suggests that the entire doctrinal structure of Kabbalah revolves around the diagram of the Sefirotic Tree, which ‘strikingly resembles the Assyrian Tree’.  [xi]

As we shall see, it is probable that they are two products of the same body of ideas, the first traceable to the 13th century B.C.E., and the latter with a less clear early history, resurfacing in the Middle Ages of our own era.

The Sefirotic Tree is so-called on account of the elements known as Sefirot (countings or numbers) which are represented in the diagram by circles, numbered from one to ten.‘ They are defined as divine powers or attributes through which the transcendent God, not shown in the diagram, manifests himself.’  [xii]  Parpola describes the tree thus:

The Tree has a central trunk and horizontal branches spreading to the right and left on which the Sefirot are arranged in the symmetrical fashion: three to the left, four on the trunk, and three to the right. The vertical alignments of the Sefirot on the right and left represent the polar opposites of masculine and feminine, positive and negative, active and passive, dark and light, etc. The balance of the Tree is maintained by the trunk, also called the Pillar of Equilibrium.

The other two pillars are known as the Pillar of Judgement, and the Pillar of Mercy.

Parpola suggests that the Sefirotic Tree has a dual function, like the Assyrian Tree.
It is both a picture of the macrocosm, giving an account of the creation of the world, accompanied in three successive stages by the Sefirot emanating from the transcendent God. It also charts the cosmic harmony of the universe upheld by the Sefirot under the constraining influence of the polar system of opposites. In short, it is a model of the divine world order, and in manifesting the invisible God through His attributes, it is also, in a way, an image of God. Its other function is to refer to man as a microcosm, the ideal man created in the image of God.


[End of Extract]





[i] Parpola acknowledges that the question of the existence of the concept of the Tree of Life in Mesopotamia has been disputed, resulting in the use of the ‘more neutral term’ ‘sacred tree’ when referring to the Mesopotamian symbol. ‘The Assyrian Tree of Life: Tracing the Origins of Jewish Monotheism and Greek Philosophy’, in JNES 52/3 (1993) p 161 n.4.

[ii] Details of instances of the appearance of the sacred tree are given by Parpola in footnotes 9-13, p163, JNES 52/3 (1993)

[iii] Parpola has included a typological appendix to his paper  Appendix A, p200-01, JNES 52/3 (1993) , illustrating the range of variation in the depiction of the tree.
[iv] Winter published on this subject in Program n. 13, pp. 26ff.

[v] The King is representative of the god Aššur, who is indicated by the winged disk which hovers above the Tree.

[vi] JNES 52/3 (1993) p 167-8, & n. 34, where Parpola tells us that ‘Perfect Man’ is well attested as an Assyrian Royal epithet  eá¹­lu gitmālu . Similar phrases are known, such as ‘perfect king’  Å¡arru gitmālu , and the phrase ’what the king said is as perfect as the word of god’  in the text LAS 144 r. 4f. (Letters of Assyrian Scholars) . Parpola points out that the concept of the ‘perfect king’ goes back to the early second millennium. In n. 33 it is noted that the king was often referred to as the image (şalmu) of God. Phrases such as: ‘the father of the king my lord was the very image of Bel, and the king my lord is likewise the very image of Bel,’  LAS 125: 18f., and ‘You, O king of the world, are an image of Marduk.’  RMA 170=SAA 8 n333 r.2 . Also: LAS 145: ‘The king, my lord, is the chosen of the great gods; the shadow of the king, my lord, is beneficial to all…. The king, my lord, is the perfect likeness of the god.’
[vii] JNES 52/3 (1993) p 168.

[viii] JNES 52/3 (1993) p 168.
[ix]  Parpola indicates that the evidence for ‘an extensive esoteric lore in first and second-millennium Mesopotamia is amply documented’, and the ‘few extant written specimens of such lore prove that mystical exegesis of religious symbolism played a prominent part in it.’ JNES 52/3 (1993) p 169.

[x] JNES 52/3 (1993) p 169. See also n. 41.

[xi] JNES 52/3 (1993) p 171, n45. ‘The first step in Kabbalah is to become familiar with the Sefirotic Tree. Without this key, little can be comprehended’ – Halevi, Z: Tradition of Hidden Knowledge. London, 1979.
[xii] JNES 52/3 (1993) p 171-2

Saturday, 7 November 2015

Why read The Sacred History of Being?




Why should you read The Sacred History of Being?  Our current cultural space has been shaped by a huge number of developments which took place in the past. These developments stretch back to the origins of civilization, and so we are shaped by several millennia of intellectual and political struggles, changes in patterns of thought and language, and economic and physical invention.

So where we are might have turned out to be a very different place. Things are always in flux, and change so fast that we can see the process happening in the present – the world I grew up in has passed away, and very few of the things I was taught in order to equip me for life as an adult have turned out to be of any use. For example, I was taught to count in binary, aged eight, because the future was going to be a world filled with computers and computing. To do computing (then) meant the necessity of understanding and using binary notation.

It seemed like a good decision at the time. But the future is notoriously difficult to predict. We feel on surer ground when we look at the past, because the past is where real things happened, and we can know about those things. Those things do not change.

However our perception of them, and our knowledge of them, does change. Everything we think we know  colours our understanding of our past. So in a sense, our present is the result of what we think got us to this place. We are carrying a great deal of baggage, and much of it in practice is, like our understanding of the past, negotiable.

The Sacred History of Being is a book about our intellectual past. But it is also a book which also explores some aspects of how we came to think in the way we do about the earliest days of civilization.

Views of remote antiquity at the start of the 20th century were very different from those at the close of the century. The past can never be done and dusted in our understanding. But it is easy for scholars to think that we are refining our understanding of antiquity, and that we are, mainly by dint of massive advances in the sciences, able to be more objective and precise in our understanding. Archaeology has made huge strides over many decades, and we understand ancient languages which were entirely lost until the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Our capacity to date objects allows us a sense of perspective our ancestors did not have, and as a consequence we can arrange events in space and time with hitherto unheard of accuracy. We create typologies, we periodise, and we frame and reframe.

All of this however, is taking place within a changing series of assumptions about the past, many of which are not subject to endless re-examination and reframing. If these assumptions are false, to whatever degree, the refinement of our understanding of the past is the refinement of an essentially fictitious picture.

The Sacred History of Being is about unpicking some of the key fictions which distort our understanding of the past.  

The main issues addressed by the book are:

The long standing effort by western scholars to utterly separate the patterns of thought of the east from those of the modern west. This has been underway since the Enlightenment, and to a large extent builds on the medieval understanding of Aristotle, and the logical apparatus he created.

The Ontological Argument, developed in the early modern period, building on arguments first mooted by St Anselm. The argument was promoted by eminent philosophers, including Descartes and Leibniz. The argument is supposed to provide a form of proof of the existence of God. The argument presumes some things which it ought to seek to explain, such as the framework of existence within which God is ‘proved’ to have existence. This mode of argument has been extremely damaging for our understanding of thought in antiquity. Plato did not argue like this, and nor did Aristotle.

Plato on the Divine and the nature of Reality. Because of the adoption of the Ontological Argument as a proof of the existence of God, there has been little attention given to Plato’s discussion of the reality of the Divine, and what it means. Much of the interest in Plato as a philosopher over the past two centuries has focussed on the question of whether or not he was engaged in research, or was otherwise teaching traditional doctrine. Much technical ingenuity has been wasted on this dispute, including the development of stylometry, devised in order to detect the order in which Plato’s dialogues were composed. The idea being if we could know this order, we could better understand the apparent changes of view, and know if he was engaged in research over his long lifetime. Those who argue that he was teaching traditional doctrine have had a very difficult time of it, since, as they admit, they have no idea what that traditional doctrine might be.

Plato’s idea of the Divine is not discussed by him as a piece of formal argument. But the details of such an argument are present in some of the key dialogues. These details have not been properly assembled by scholars because of the intellectual baggage they bring to bear on the question. The scholars  are looking for something which will make sense within the intellectual world which developed after Plato. Which is the intellectual world of the west.  It does make sense however within the kind of intellectual understanding of reality which was always current in the east, and in some places still is. The difference here between east and west, is that the east does not presume the existence of space and time apart from the reality of the Divine. When Plato is speaking of God, he is speaking of Reality itself, which is beyond space and time.  Plato’s doctrine is decoded in The Sacred History of Being.

The age of philosophy. The consensus view of historians of philosophy is that philosophy was invented by the Greeks, and as an essentially autocthonous development, uninfluenced by other cultures around the Mediterranean and the Near East. Despite the fact that Plato himself claimed that philosophy was very old. Plato and Aristotle were the first writers to write and publish extensive examples of abstract argument: To historians this is generally understood to indicate that they were the first to seriously engage with abstract thought. 

It can now be shown that abstract thought is very old. But historians of human culture have to tip-toe around the philosophers and classicists insistence that before the classical period, nobody engaged in the practice of philosophy, and abstract thought was probably then beyond human capacity. Even if the Greeks themselves said the Egyptians were philosophers (The Egyptians were another casualty of the Enlightenment enthusiasm for locating the origins of philosophy in mid-1st millennium B.C.E. Greece).

How old is Pythagorean philosophy? Older than Plato, certainly, dating apparently to the late sixth century. Pythagoras did not write, but some of his followers did – principally Philolaus, who published three books, which are said to have been sought by Plato. Several writers have written about some of the core doctrines. One of these, the doctrine of Totalities, Pythagoras is said to have learned about in Babylon, about the time of its fall in 539 B.C.E.  Plato writes about it. Porphyry writes about it much, much later. However it is clearly the explanatory mechanism for a passage in Bk XVIII of the Iliad in connection with Hephaestus. So, it is early, precedes Pythagoras, and it surfaces obliquely but unmistakeably in a piece of classic Greek literature from several centuries earlier. It may be however that Pythagoras did learn it in Babylon. But then, that would suggest that the doctrine of Totalities was not Greek. It isn’t.

The  understanding of the doctrine of Totalities underpins Mesopotamian  religious thought. The Sacred History of Being examines a number of key features of ancient civilization, including ideas shared by Greece and Mesopotamia. The Enuma Elish for example contains reference to ideas relating to the gods which were also shared in Greece. The arrangement of the gods and their names in that document clearly shows the practice of collection and division, which is the foundation of Greek philosophy. Otherwise known as the practice of dialectic. Ideas of Ocean are also explored in both civilisations.

Ideas of abstract Divinity in Israel. The Sacred History of Being argues that the historical development of monotheism in Israel should be understood in terms of a protracted philosophical dispute about the nature of the Divine, amidst a vicious hegemonic power struggle in Israel. The  chapter is called ‘The Idea of Being in Israel’. The case is clear: there are philosophical aspects to Yahweh. He is beyond representation because he is that which is, and he does not change. Like Plato’s God, he has no shape, form or colour. He is one, not many. The history of aniconism and opposition to idolatry in Israel stems from this intellectual struggle to engage with the god who is wholly transcendent, and therefore identical with Reality itself.

As a consequence of the known redactions of Biblical texts after the Babylonian exile, we find we know nothing certain about cultic activity in Israel for the half millennium before the return from exile. Except that representations were not always reviled.

Which leads on to the next subject, which is the relationship between the Jewish Kabbalah of the late middle ages, and the Assyrian Sacred Tree. The Assyriologist Simo Parpola showed the essential identity of both concepts in 1993. It used to be assumed that the Kabbalistic Tree owed something to Gnostic belief in the early 1st millennium C.E., and so the fact that it enshrined an abstract idea of Divinity was not a problem for the history of philosophy. If it is also related to the Assyrian sacred tree however, which has archaeological evidence supporting its presence in the mid-second millennium, then the assumption that abstraction was beyond human beings in the middle of the 2nd millennium B.C.E. falls to pieces. Parpola’s argument is discussed in the course of the text.

The argument which was used to support the idea of a deity beyond shape, form, or colour in the middle of the 2nd millennium B.C.E. was not the ontological argument of our middle ages, but was essentially similar to Plato’s argument in the Classical period. Which explodes the notion that the Greeks invented philosophy: the Assyrians were there first.

The Logic of Idolatry. It used to be the case that Idolatry was seen as a stage of cultic worship which preceded monotheism, and had no connection with it. But it is clear from the evidence that this was not the understanding in ancient Mesopotamia (as it is not the understanding now in contemporary Hindu culture in India). The garniture of the universe, as described by the prophet Enoch, was understood to be the creation of God. But he argued that particular instances and images could  mislead people as to the true nature of God. This was part of the Hebrew assault on other gods. We absorbed this view of idolatry at a very early time in western intellectual history, and have not subjected it to any significant amount of rational or critical analysis.  

Idolatry in the 2nd and 1st millennium B.C.E. used images as part of a chain of abstractions to lead supplicants to the transcendent god, as Plato described in his ‘literary fiction’ about the Forms. It was an intellectual discipline, which has been wholly lost. The importance of these images stemmed from the fact that the supreme deity was ultimately beyond all form and representation.  It was a discipline designed to allow the supplicant to approach transcendent deity.

Ten good reasons to read The Sacred History of Being. Many more questions are explored along the way. The thesis of the book is radical, thought-provoking, properly documented, and offers fresh perspectives on the past. Though all of it is of scholarly interest, the book is clearly written, makes few concessions to scholarly jargon, and is aimed at an interested lay audience.

Further details can be found on the static page for The Sacred History of Being, plus links to some freely available extracts from the text. Some reader responses to the book can be found here.


Thomas Yaeger, November 7, 2015. Text revised March 3, July 26, 2016, August 8, and August 12, 2017. Text revised October 18, 2017. Updated December 31, 2017.