Mesopotamian Medicine, Magic, and Literature: Tribute to a Polymath.

• Author: Scurlock, Joann

The book under review, Mesopotamian Medicine and Magic, is a Festschrift for Mark Geller. It contains a preface (pp. xi-xv), an appreciation (by I. J. Finkel, p. xvi), and a bibliography of the works of the honoree (compiled by the editors, S.V. Panayotov and L. Vacin, pp. xvii-xxxi), plus thirty-four articles on various topics relating to medicine and magic, but also essays on religion, divination, and even grammar. One of these is my own contribution--about which I will not comment further, but which gives me the opportunity to say out loud what many people do not realize: despite some relatively acrimonious and very public debates in person and in print, we are nonetheless friends--a two rabbis and three opinions sort of affair.

The article by Tzvi Abusch, "Vetitive and Prohibitive: An Observation" (pp. 1-8) seeks to refine our understanding of the difference between these two forms, conventionally translated "may he not" and "he shall/must not." Abusch argues that, in his Maqlu texts, the two forms are used interchangeably with one exception: the "prohibitive" always appears after a dependent clause introduced by kima (p. 4). In other words, you say "may the witchcraft not approach me" but "just as such and such is the case, so shall witchcraft not approach me." One is tempted to suppose that this is because the kima clause makes the negative outcome more certain (pp. 6-7), but this does not seem to prevent the "vetitive" form from being used after a kima clause (p. 7).

The article by Ammar Annus, "Sons of Seth and the South Wind" (pp. 9-24), seeks to connect Jewish traditions of Seth and his sons with the Shasu of Egyptian texts and the Suteans mentioned in ancient Mesopotamian sources. The basis for this connection is, of course, etymological, but etymologies--particularly of place names--can be very treacherous. There are any number of problems with Annus's contention that the incident with the South Wind in the Adapa text, the alleged cosmic destruction by water and fire of Sutean witches in Maqlu,

This is a review article of Mesopotamian Medicine and Magic: Studies in Honor of Markham J. Geller. Edited by STRAVIL V. PANAYATOV and LUDEK VACIN. Ancient Magic and Divination, vol. 14. Leiden: BRILL, 2018. Pp. xxxi + 936. $252.

and Erra's ravages against the Suteans in the Erra Epic demonstrate that Mesopotamians regarded these people with racially charged fear and loathing and that the "clearly Jewish" Sethian gnostics and early antedeluvian sage traditions are meant as a counter-narrative to Mesopotamian prejudices. Briefly, Adapa's cursing of the South Wind actually got him into serious trouble, not that it matters, since the Suteans in Maqlu represent the West and not the South as is clear by their juxtaposition to Elamites. The destruction by water and fire in Maqlu is not cosmic, and the targets are witches from whatever region they may come. Erra's ravages against Suteans are on a par with those he had previously committed against Babylonia (actually plague).

As for Seth, he is more likely to be connected with the Egyptian god of the same name than with Sutean nomads. Our gnostic texts were found in Egypt, where Horus and Thoth are the fonts of wisdom and cleverness, with Seth the height of stupidity and ignorance, the sort of dialectic that gnostic texts generally make it their business to invert. It is also known from Egyptian references to Shasu that they were from Seir and worshipped Yahweh. This makes them Edomites, sons of Lot by his daughters and eligible for some degree of intermarriage, but otherwise arguably the most consistently and unabashedly hated neighbors of biblical Israel. Equation of Edom with the Byzantines in Rabbinic sources does nothing to indicate any change of heart on this particular subject. Is it too obvious that references to the destruction of the "sons of Seth" by water and fire are to the apocalyptic destruction of sinful mankind with no specific reference to one tiny--and no longer existing--subset?

Netanel Anor's "An Old Babylonian Oil Omen Tablet from the British Museum" (pp. 25-35) presents a previously unpublished tablet. This type of text is quite rare, being generally a bit too lowbrow to be recorded. A comparison with Richard Napier's consultations with angels reveals that common people's concerns have not changed materially over the centuries (Hadass 2018: 104-10). Unfortunately fragmentary, only one set of entries is complete enough to spark real interest (pp. 31-32). This pair is identical in the nature of what is seen (a wedge shape) and what is required (an offering), but one yields an unfavorable and the other a favorable response. The difference? It is whether the thick part of the wedge is on the sunset or sunrise side of the wedge.

Annie Attia's "Disease and Healing in the Book of Tobit and in Mesopotamian Medicine" (pp. 36-68) is the fruit of a long engagement with this text. The problem with exegesis of any kind is that the subtleties of the examined text tend to be left on the table. Here we have a devout son of Israel, who was whole-heartedly devoted to Jerusalem and its Temple, while he was in the land. However, once in Assyria he was not inclined to move to Jerusalem, even though Judah was part of the Assyrian empire at the time. What is more, his refusal to eat heathen food actually won him favor with "Shalmanesar" of whom he was a courtier. (Sargon is the correct name of the father of Sennacherib--Tobit's author is confusing him with Shalmanesar V.) He had a bit of trouble with Sennacherib but all was restored to him by Esarhaddon, who made his nephew Ahiqar his vizier. Despite all the nonsense about not burying bodies (probably actually a reference to Zoroastrian cities of the dead where bodies are exposed for the birds to eat), Tobit himself received an honorable burial in Nineveh. Not a word is said about any pagan worship in Assyria, in contrast to bitter complaints about Israelite worship. Nineveh is punished as a bloody city full of lies, as Jerusalem too will be, as predicted by the prophets and in particular Nahum, who allows no questioning of divine justice for either destruction. To note also is the fact that the first rebuilding of the Temple in Jerusalem does not mark the end of God's wrath against Judah or the time for Tobit to go home. What I see in this text is not burning hatred of anybody, but a faith that perseveres in the face of any adversity, no matter how great or how long it lasts.

As for magic, the Mesopotamian ardat-lili did not get to be a demoness by beating servants, killing husbands, and being cursed with childlessness (pace p. 52), but quite simply by dying young. And Sarah is not being bothered by any such demoness. The lilu-class of demons always attack members of the opposite sex, so her tormenter would have to be a lilu and his goal would have been to kill her and take her with him, not keep her unmarried. The demon who is beating Sarah's servants and killing her husbands belongs to quite a different folkloric complex from the lilu-set, which is essentially about unhappy ghosts looking for companionship. Sarah's possessor is a demon husband, who is understandably not eager to have her sleeping with other men. 1 know of no examples of this complex from ancient Mesopotamia, so we need to look elsewhere for inspiration--Persia? Central Asia?

As for medicine, there are many possibilities for sisitu and sillu, but leucoma is not among them. Leucoma is a white scar that can be dealt with only by modern surgery. Since the conditions in both the Mesopotamian texts and Tobit are treatable, leucoma is simply off the table. As for the medicines, rikibti arkabi is not excrement--we are talking about musk, of which there are a number of plant equivalents. The fish oil and the gall, and delivery by fumigation are correctly identified, but their usage has nothing to do with chasing away demons (the fumigation) or with Sumerian school texts and sages being the first humans to come out of the water.

Ancient Mesopotamian physicians used...