The kings punished their enemies by leaving their bodies to rot in the sun, or they exposed them on poles as a warning to rebels. Ashurbanabal on one occasion speaks of having scattered the corpses of the enemy's host 'like thorns and thistles' over the battlefield.[1272] The corpses of the Babylonians who had aided in the rebellion against the king were given 'to dogs, swine, to the birds of heaven, to the fish of the sea' as food.[1273] The same king takes pleasure in relating that he destroyed the graves of Elamitic kings and dragged the bodies from their resting-place[1274] to Assyria. Their shades, he adds, were thus unprotected. No food could be tendered them and no sacrifices offered in their honor. Sennacherib, after he has crushed a rebellion that broke out in Babylonia, takes a terrible revenge upon the instigator of the opposition, Mardukbaliddin, by removing the bodies of the latter's ancestors from the vaults wherein they were deposited. The bones of an enemy are enumerated by Ashurbanabal among the spoil secured by him.[1275] The mutilation of the dead body was also a terrible punishment to the dead,[1276] and we are told that the person who disturbed a grave is not to be permitted to enter the temple. The desecration of the grave affected not only the individual whose rest was thus disturbed, and who, in consequence, suffered pangs of hunger and other miseries, but reached the survivors as well. The unburied or disentombed shade assumed the form of a demon,[1277] and afflicted the living.

Of the ceremonies incidental to burial, the bronze tablet above described affords us at least a glimpse. The dead were placed on a bier and wrapped in some kind of a cover. Priests were called in to perform rites of purification. One of the priests, it will be recalled,[1278] is clad in a fish costume. The fish is the symbol of Ea, the god of the deep, who becomes the chief deity appealed to in incantations involving the use of water. The priest assumes the rôle of Ea, as it were, by the symbolical dress that he puts on. The rites appear to consist of the burning of incense and the sprinkling of water. It does not of course follow that everywhere the same custom was observed, but we may at least be certain that the priest played an important part in the last honors paid to the dead. The purification was intended to protect the dead from the evil spirits that infest the grave. The demons of disease, it is true, could no longer trouble him. They had done their work as messengers of Allatu. But there were other demons who were greedy for the blood and flesh of the dead. Though the dead had passed out of the control of the gods, the latter had at least the power to restrain the demons from disturbing the peace of the grave.

In the earlier days, when the bodies were placed on the ground or only a short distance below it, the building of the grave-mound was a ceremony to which importance was attached. In the stele of vultures, attendants are portrayed—perhaps priests—with baskets on their heads, containing the earth to be placed over the fallen soldiers.[1279] These attendants are bare to the waist. The removal of the garments is probably a sign of mourning, just as among the Hebrews and other Semites it was customary to put on the primitive loin-cloth[1280] as a sign of grief. In somewhat later times, we find sorrowing relatives tearing their clothing[1281]—originally tearing off their clothing—and cutting their hair as signs of mourning.

The formal lament for the dead was another ceremony upon which stress was laid. It lasted from three to seven days.[1282] The professional wailers, male and female, can be traced back to the earliest days of Babylonian history. Gudea speaks of them.[1283] It would appear that at this early period persons were engaged, as is the case to this day in the Orient, to sing dirges in memory of the dead.[1284] The function is one that belongs naturally to priests and priestesses; and, while in the course of time, the connection with the temple of those who acted as wailers became less formal, it is doubtful whether that connection was ever entirely cut off. The 'dirge singers, male and female,' referred to in the story of Ishtar's journey[1285] were in the service of some temple. The hymns to Nergal[1286] may be taken as samples of the Babylonian dirges.

The praise of Nergal and Allatu was combined with the lament for the sad fate of the dead. Gilgamesh weeping for his friend Eabani[1287] furnishes an illustration. Gilgamesh is described as stretched out on the ground. The same custom is referred to in the inscriptions of Cyrus,[1288] and it is interesting to note that a similar mode of manifesting grief still prevails in the modern Orient. In the Babylonian dirges, it would seem, the references to the virtues of the deceased (which are prominently introduced into the dirges of the present day) were few. The refrain forms a regular feature of these dirges,—an indication that, as is still the case in the Orient, there was a leader who sang the dirge, while the chorus chimed in at the proper moment. The principle of the stanza of two lines, one long and one short, that, as Budde has shown,[1289] controls the wailing songs in the Old Testament (including the Book of Lamentations, which is based upon this very custom of lamenting the dead), may be detected in the Babylonian compositions. The accompaniment of musical instruments to the dirges also appears to be a very old custom in Babylonia. In the story of Ishtar's journey the wailers are called upon to strike their instruments. What kind of instruments were used in ancient times we do not know. In the Assyrian period, the harp and flute appear to be the most common.[1290]

At the time that food and drink were placed with the dead in the grave, some arrangements must have been made for renewing the nourishment. Entrances to tombs have been found,[1291] and Koldewey[1292] is of the opinion that the clay drains found in quantities in the tombs, served as well to secure a supply of fresh water for the dead. The wailing for the dead took place not only immediately after death, but subsequently. Ashurbanabal speaks of visiting the graves of his ancestors. He appears at the tomb with rent garments, pours out a libation to the memory of the dead, and offers up a prayer addressed to them. We have every reason to believe that the graves were frequently visited by the survivors. The festival of Tammuz became an occasion[1293] when the memory of those who had entered Aralû was recalled.

While there are many details connected with the ceremonies for the dead still to be determined, what has been ascertained illustrates how closely and consistently these ceremonies followed the views held by the Babylonians and Assyrians regarding the life after death. Everything connected with death is gloomy. The grave is as dark as Aralû; the funeral rites consist of dirges that lament not so much the loss sustained by the living as the sad fate in store for the dead. Not a ray of sunshine illumines the darkness that surrounds these rites. All that is hoped for is to protect the dead against the attack of demons greedy for human flesh, to secure rest for the body, and to guard the dead against hunger and thirst.

It is almost startling to note, to what a degree the views embodied in Old Testament writings regarding the fate of the dead, coincide with Babylonian conceptions. The descriptions of Sheol found in Job, in the Psalms, in Isaiah, Ezekiel, and elsewhere are hardly to be distinguished from those that we have encountered in Babylonian literature. For Job,[1294] Sheol is

The description might serve as a paraphrase of the opening lines in the story of Ishtar's journey. The Hebrew Sheol is situated, like the Babylonian Aralû, deep down in the earth.[1296] It is pictured as a cavern. The entrance to it is through gates that are provided with bolts. Sheol is described as a land filled with dust. Silence reigns supreme. It is the gathering-place of all the living, without exception. He who sinks into Sheol does not rise up again.

It is, clearly, 'a land without return,' as the Babylonians conceived it. The condition of the dead in Sheol is sad, precisely as the Babylonians pictured the life in Aralû. The dead are designated by a name[1298] that indicates their weak condition. They can only talk in whispers or they chirp like birds. Their gait is unsteady. In general, they are pictured as lying quiet, doomed to inactivity. Death is lamented as an evil. The dead have passed out of the control of Yahwe, whose concern is with the living. Yahwe's blessings are meted out in this world, but not in Sheol. These blessings consist chiefly of long life and plenty of offspring. The dead need not praise Yahwe. Ecclesiastes—although a late composition—expresses the old popular view in the summary of the fate of the dead,[1299] when it is said that the dead know nothing of what is going on. Their memory is gone; they neither love nor hate, and they are devoid of any ambition. There is no planning, no wisdom, no judgment in Sheol.

Like the Babylonians, the Hebrews also believed that the condition of the individual at the time of death was an index of the condition in store for him in Sheol. He who goes to Sheol in sorrow is pursued by sorrow after death. Jacob does not want to go down to Sheol in sorrow,[1300] because he knows that in that case sorrow will be his fate after death. To die neglected by one's family was fatal to one's well-being in Sheol. Life in Sheol was a continuation, in a measure, of the earthly existence. Hence, the warrior is buried with his weapons; the prophet is recognized by his cloak; the kings wear their crowns; the people of various lands are known by their dress.[1301] Even deformities, as lameness, follow the individual into the grave. On the other hand, while the dead were weak and generally inactive, although capable of suffering, they were also regarded by the Hebrews as possessing powers superior to those of the living. As among the Babylonians, the dead stand so close to the higher powers as to be themselves possessed of divine qualities. Schwally aptly characterizes this apparent contradiction by saying 'that the dead are Refâ'îm (weak), but, at the same time, Elohîm, i.e. divine beings.'[1302] Yahwe has no power over the dead, but they receive some of his qualities. They are invoked by the living. The dead can furnish oracles, precisely as Yahwe can. They not only appear to the living in dreams, but their shades can be raised up from Sheol. A certain amount of worship was certainly paid to the dead by the ancient Hebrews.

Naturally, these popular views were subjected to considerable modification with the development of the religion of the Hebrews. While many features remained, as is shown by the occurrence of the primitive conception of Sheol in comparatively late productions, in one important particular, more especially, did the spread of an advanced ethical monotheism lead to a complete departure from the Babylonian conceptions. While, in the popular mind, the belief that there was no escape from Sheol continued for a long time, this belief was inconsistent with the conception of a Divine Being, who, as creator and sole ruler of the universe, had control of the dead as well as the living. As long as Yahwe was merely one god among many, no exception was made of the rule that the concern of the gods was with the living; but Yahwe as the one and only god, could not be pictured as limited in his scope. He was a god for the dead, as well as for the living. The so-called song of Hannah[1303] expresses the new view when it praises Yahwe as the one 'who kills and restores to life, who leads to Sheol, and who can lead out of it.' Such a description of Yahwe is totally different from the Babylonians' praise of Ninib, Gula, or Marduk as the 'restorer of the dead to life,' which simply meant that these gods could restrain Allatu. The power to snatch the individual from the grasp of Sheol was also ascribed to the national god, Yahwe. Elijah's restoration of the widow's child[1304] to life is an instance of this power, and Jonah,[1305] who praises Yahwe for having delivered him when the gates of Sheol already seemed bolted, may not have had anything more in mind than what the Babylonians meant; but when the Psalmist, to indicate the universal rule of Yahwe, exclaims

the departure from the old Hebrew and Babylonian views of the limitation of divine power is clearly marked. The inconsistency between the view held of Yahwe and the limitation of his power was not, however, always recognized. Hence, even in late portions of the Old Testament, we find views of the life after death that are closely allied to the popular notions prevailing in the earlier productions. It is not, indeed, till we reach a period bordering close on our era that the conflict between the old and the new is brought to a decided issue in the disputes of the sects that arose in Palestine.[1307] The doctrines of retribution and of the resurrection of the dead are the inevitable consequences of the later ethical faith and finally triumph; but the old views, which bring the ancient Hebrews into such close connection with the Babylonians, left their impress in the vagueness that for a long time characterized these doctrines, even after their promulgation. The persistency of the old beliefs is a proof of the strong hold that they acquired, as also of the close bond uniting, at one time and for a long period, Hebrews and Babylonians. What applies to the beliefs regarding the dead holds good also for the rites. Many a modern Jewish custom[1308] still bears witness to the original identity of the Hebrew and Babylonian methods of disposing of and caring for the dead.

There is but one explanation for this close agreement,—the same explanation that was given for the identity of traditions regarding the creation of the world, and for the various other points of contact between the two peoples that we have met with. When the Hebrew clans left their homes in the Euphrates Valley, they carried with them the traditions, beliefs, and customs that were current in that district, and which they shared with the Babylonians. Under new surroundings, some new features were added to the traditions and beliefs, but the additions did not obscure the distinctive character impressed upon them by Babylonian contact. We now know that relations with Babylonia were never entirely broken off by the Hebrews. The old traditions survived all vicissitudes. They were adapted to totally changed phases of belief, but the kernel still remained Babylonian. Beliefs were modified, new doctrines arose; but, with a happy inconsistency, the old was embodied in the new. Hence it happens, that in order to understand the Hebrews, their religion, their customs, and even their manner of thought, we must turn to Babylonia.

Further discoveries beneath the mounds of Mesopotamia and further researches in Babylonian literature will add more evidence to the indebtedness of the Hebrews to Babylonia. It will be found that in the sacrificial ordinances of the Pentateuch, in the legal regulations, in methods of justice and punishment, Babylonian models were largely followed, or, what is an equal testimony to Babylonian influence, an opposition to Babylonian methods was dominant. It is not strange that when by a curious fate, the Hebrews were once more carried back to the 'great river of Babylon,'[1309] the people felt so thoroughly at home there. It was only the poets and some ardent patriots who hung their harps on the willows and sighed for a return to Zion. The Jewish population steadily increased in Babylonia, and soon also the intellectual activity of Babylonian Jews outstripped that of Palestine.[1310] The finishing touches to the structure of Judaism were given in Babylonia—on the soil where the foundations were laid.

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