WINGED WORDS WINDSDAY
Compiled & Edited by Rob Chappell
(@RHCLambengolmo)
Editorial Associate: S. A. Sonnenschein
Vol. 3, No. 20: March 13, 2024
Celebrating Women’s History Month
Episode #2: Siduri, the World’s First Sibyl
Editor’s Note
This week, we debut a new weekly
column by my esteemed colleague, Solveig, containing her thoughtful reflections
on life, the Universe, and everything. It’s entitled Weekly Words of
Wisdom, and it appears at the end of this week’s issue. I am also
pleased to announce the addition of some new arrivals to our writing staff,
whom you will have the opportunity to meet in subsequent issues. Starting in
the near future, our blog will feature original works of poetry and prose by
members of our writing staff, in addition to the traditional content that you
have come to expect and appreciate through the years. And now, without further
delay, here is this week’s edition of Windsday Wonders!
Siduri: The First Sibyl in World Literature
The Sibyls were an ancient order
of visionary women who served their people as prophets and sages. Sibyls were
active in Africa, Asia, and Europe from prehistoric times until the end of
Classical antiquity around 500 CE. Their oracles were written down, translated,
and interpreted from one generation to the next, and prominent leaders would
often consult the Sibylline books before making critical decisions. According
to traditional sources, there were twelve lineages of Sibyls, who passed on
their knowledge, wisdom, and prophetic mantles from teacher to disciple.
When Classical antiquity passed
away, the memory of the Sibyls lingered among scholars and loremasters, and
they were held to be the equals of the Hebrew prophets by many eminent
authorities in the Abrahamic family of religions. In recent decades, with a renewed
appreciation for the leadership roles that women held in ancient religious
communities, scholars and novelists alike have rekindled a wider interest in
the Sibyls and their oracles. The Sibyls were not mythical personages; they
were real, historical women who walked across the stage of history and
exercised a profound influence on the development of both Mediterranean and
Middle Eastern spiritual traditions.
In this week’s installment, we
would like to introduce our readers to Siduri, an ancient Mesopotamian Sibyl
who appears to be the first of her kind in world literature and mythology. Due
to her appearance in the Gilgamesh Epic (the world’s oldest known
epic poem), Siduri was remembered with reverence throughout the ancient Near
East, and later ages would transform her into the Babylonian (a/k/a Persian
Sibyl), a sage and seer who appears in numerous works of Classical, medieval,
and Renaissance art and literature.
Siduri dwelt on the shores of
the Eastern Sea, far to the east of Mesopotamia, in the land where the Sun rose
(which reminds the Editor of Japan, the “Land of the Rising Sun,” which was
known in the Middle East since antiquity). She cultivated vineyards and was a
well-known winemaker; she also gave wise counsel to those who visited her
dwelling. Some scholars and loremasters have speculated that Siduri might have
been a human avatar of Inanna/Ishtar, the
Mesopotamian goddess who was believed to be the indwelling soul of the
planet Venus. Whatever the case may be, here is the tale of Siduri – the
world’s first Sibyl, who was consulted by Gilgamesh, the world’s first
superhero.
“Siduri”
By Ninianne Trouvere, Contributing Writer
She was the
first Sibyl,
The oracle
of the gods,
Possessed of
great wisdom,
Born to
guide and to lead.
She received
visions of the future,
Spoke words
of prophecy,
Warning of
coming strife,
And how to
avoid tragedy.
Her words
brought comfort and strength
To the
people in times of need,
A beacon of
hope and faith,
A pillar of
compassion, indeed.
Siduri is walking along the beach
of the Eastern Ocean (the Pacific?), perhaps in the “Land of the Rising Sun.”
(Image Credit: Digital Artwork Created by the Editor)
Excerpt from the Preface to the Sibylline Oracles (5th
Century CE)
Sibyl is a Latin word meaning
prophetess, or rather soothsayer; hence the female soothsayers were called by
one name. Now Sibyls, according to many writers, have arisen in different times
and places, to the number of ten. There was first the Chaldean, or rather the
Persian (Sibyl), whose proper name is Sambethe. She was of the family of the
most blessed Noah, and is said to have foretold the exploits of Alexander of
Macedon; Nicanor, who wrote the life of Alexander, mentions her. The second was
the Libyan, of whom Euripides makes mention in the preface of (his play) the
Lamia. The third was the Delphian, born at Delphi, and spoken of by Chrysippus
in his book on divination. The fourth was the Italian, in Cimmerium in Italy,
whose son Evander founded in Rome the shrine of Pan which is called the
Lupercal. The fifth was the Erythræan, who predicted the Trojan war, and of
whom Apollodorus the Erythræan bears positive testimony. The sixth was the
Samian, whose proper name is Phyto, of whom Eratosthenes wrote. The seventh was
the Cumman, called Amalthea, also Herophile, and in some places Taraxandra. But
Vergil calls the Cumæan Sibyl Deiphobe, daughter of Glaucus. The eighth was the
Hellespontine, born in the village of Marpessus near the small town of
Gergithion, which, according to Heraclides of Pontus, was formerly, in the time
of Solon and Cyrus, within the boundaries of the Troad. The ninth was the
Phrygian, and the tenth the Tiburtine, named Albunæa.
It is said, moreover, that the
Cumæan Sibyl once brought nine books of her oracles to Tarquinius Priscus, who
was at that time King of the Romans, and demanded for them three hundred pieces
of gold. But having been disdainfully treated, and not even questioned as to
what they were, she committed three of them to the fire. Again, in another
audience with the king she brought forward the six remaining books, and still
demanded the same amount. But not being deemed worthy of attention, again she
burned three more. Then a third time bringing the three that were left, and
asking the same price, she said that if he would not procure them, she would
burn these also. Then, it is said, the king examined them and was astonished,
and gave for them a hundred pieces of gold, took them in charge and made
request for the others. But she declared that neither had she the like of those
that were burned nor had she any such knowledge apart from inspiration, but
that certain persons from various cities and countries had at times excerpted
what was esteemed by them necessary and useful, and that out of these excerpts
a collection ought to be made. And this (the Romans) did as quickly as
possible. For that which was given from God, though truly laid up in a corner,
did not escape their search. And the books of all the Sibyls were deposited in
the Capitol of ancient Rome. Those of the Cumæan Sibyl, however, were hidden
and not made known to many, because she proclaimed more especially and
distinctly things that were to happen in Italy, while the others became known
to all. But those that were written by the Erythræan Sibyl have the name that was
given her from the place; while the other books are without inscription to mark
who is the author of each, but are without distinction (of authorship).
Siduri is writing her oracles
into a book for future generations of Sibyls to read, mark, learn, and inwardly
digest. (Image Credit: Digital Artwork Created by the Editor)
The Sibylline Oracles: Book 1, Lines 1-33
Translated by Milton S. Terry (1899)
Beginning
with the generation first
Of mortal
men down to the very last
I'll
prophesy each thing: what erst has been,
And what is
now, and what shall yet befall
The world
through the impiety of men.
First now
God urges on me to relate
Truly how
into being came the world.
And thou,
shrewd mortal, prudently make known,
Lest ever
thou shouldst my commands neglect,
The King Most
High, who brought into existence
The whole
world, saying, "Let there be," and there was.
For he the
earth established, placing it
Round about
Tartarus, and he himself
Gave the
sweet light; he raised the heaven on high,
Spread out
the gleaming sea, and crowned the sky
With an
abundance of bright-shining stars,
And decked
the earth with plants, and mingled sea
With rivers,
and the air with zephyrs mixed
And watery
clouds; and then, another race
Appointing,
he gave fishes to the seas
And birds
unto the winds, and to the woods
The beasts
of shaggy neck, and snakes that crawl,
And all
things which now on the earth appear.
These by his
Word he made, and everything
Was speedily
and with precision done;
For he was
self-caused and from heaven looked down
And finished
was the world exceeding well.
And then
thereafter fashioned he again
A living
product, copying a new man
From his own
image, beautiful, divine,
And bade him
in ambrosial garden dwell,
That labors
beautiful might be his care.
Siduri in the Gilgamesh Epic
After the death of his steadfast
warrior-companion, Enkidu, King Gilgamesh of Uruk went on a quest to find the
secret of immortality in the far eastern regions of the world. The following
summary describes the events leading up to his meeting with Siduri, along with
the advice that she gives to help him deal with his heartfelt grief.
Excerpt from Chapter 8 of Myths of Babylonia and Assyria by
Donald A. MacKenzie (1915)
[Slightly Modernized by the Editor]
Gilgamesh set out on his journey
and in time reached a mountain chasm. Gazing on the rugged heights, he beheld
fierce lions and his heart trembled. Then he cried upon the Moon god, who took
pity upon him, and under divine protection the hero pressed onward. He crossed
the rocky range and then found himself confronted by the tremendous mountain of
Mashu – "Sunrise Hill,” which divided the land of the living from the eastern
land of the dead. The mountain peak rose to heaven, and its foundations were in
Arallu, the underworld. A dark tunnel pierced it and could be entered through a
door, but the door was shut and on either side were two monsters of horrible
aspect – the gigantic "scorpion man" and his wife, whose heads
reached to the clouds. When Gilgamesh beheld them he swooned with terror. But
they did him no harm, perceiving that he was a son of a goddess and had a body
like a god.
When Gilgamesh revived, he
realized that the monsters regarded him with eyes of sympathy. Addressing the
scorpion giant, he told that he desired to visit his ancestor, Utnapishtim, who
sat in the council of the gods and had divine attributes. The giant warned him
of the dangers which he would encounter, saying that the mountain passage was
twelve miles long and beamless and black. Gilgamesh, however, resolved to
encounter any peril, for he was no longer afraid, and he was allowed to go
forward. So he entered through the monster-guarded mountain door and plunged
into thick unbroken darkness. For twice twelve hours he groped blindly onward,
until he saw a ray of light. Quickening his steps, he then escaped from the
dreadful tunnel and once more rejoiced in the rays of the Sun. He found himself
in an enchanted garden, and in the midst of it he saw a divine and beautiful
tree towards which he hastened. On its gleaming branches hung clusters of
precious stones and its leaves were of lapis lazuli. His eyes were dazzled, but
he did not linger there. Passing many other wonderful trees, he came to a
shoreland, and he knew that he was drawing nigh to the Sea of Death. The
country which he entered was ruled over by the sea lady whose name was Siduri.
When she saw the pilgrim drawing nigh, she entered her palace and shut the
door.
Gilgamesh called out requesting
that he should be allowed to enter, and mingled his entreaties with threats to
break open the door. In the end Siduri appeared and spoke, saying:
“Gilgamesh, whither
are you hurrying?
The life
that you seek, you will not find.
When the
gods created humanity,
They fixed
death for humankind.
Life they
took in their own hand.
You, O
Gilgamesh, let your belly be filled!
Day and
night be merry,
Daily
celebrate a feast,
Day and
night dance and make merry!
Clean be your
clothes,
Your head be
washed, bathe in water!
Look
joyfully on the child that grasps your hand,
Be happy
with the wife in your arms!”
Gilgamesh did not accept the
counsel of the fatalistic sea lady. He asked her how he could reach Utnapishtim,
his ancestor, saying he was prepared to cross the Sea of Death: if he could not
cross it he would die of grief.
Siduri answered him, saying:
"O Gilgamesh, no mortal is ferried over this great sea. Who can pass over
it save Shamash alone? The way is full of peril. O Gilgamesh, how can you
battle against the billows of death?"
At length, however, the sea lady
revealed to the pilgrim that he might obtain the aid of the sailor, Urshanabi,
who served his ancestor Utnapishtim.
A Biblical Echo of Siduri’s Advice:
Ecclesiastes 9:7-9 (JPS 1917)
(Slightly Modernized by the Editor)
Go your way, eat your bread with
joy, and drink your wine with a merry heart; for God has already accepted your
works.
Let your garments always be
white; and let your head lack no oil.
Enjoy life with the wife whom you
love all the days of the life of your vanity, which He has given you under the Sun,
all the days of your vanity; for that is your portion in life, and in your
labor wherein you labor under the Sun.
Siduri is walking through her
vineyards at the edge of the known world, as described in the Gilgamesh
Epic. (Image Credit: Digital Artwork Created by the Editor)
Siduri’s Advice for Readers Today
Be sure to take care of
yourself. You are a precious being, just like everyone else in this world.
Don't forget to rest, play, and do things that make you happy. Don't let
yourself get burned out or stressed. Life is short, so enjoy it while you can!
“Sybil”
By Julia Ward Howe (1819-1910)
Your head is
wild with books, Sybil,
But your
heart is good and kind—
I feel a new
contentment near you,
A pleasure
of the mind.
Glad should
I be to sit beside you,
And let long
hours glide by,
Reading,
through all your sweet narrations,
The language
of your eye.
Since the
maternal saint I worshipped
Did look and
love her last,
No woman
o’er my wayward spirit
Such gentle
spell has cast.
Oh! tell me
of your varied fortunes,
For you know
not, from your face
Looks out
strange sadness, lit with rapture,
And
melancholy grace.
You are a gem,
whose native brilliance
Could never
wholly reign,
An opal,
whose prismatic fire
A white
cloud doth restrain.
And thus,
the mood to which you move me
Is never
perfect, quite,
‘Tis pity,
wonderment, and pleasure,
Opacity and
light.
Bear me then
in your presence, Sybil,
And leave
your hand in mine,
For, though
human be my nature,
You’ve made
it half divine.
Further Reading
·
https://www.sacred-texts.com/ane/iai/index.htm à Ishtar and Izdubar
·
https://www.jasoncolavito.com/epic-of-gilgamesh.html à Gilgamesh Epic
·
https://classicalwisdom.com/mythology/sibyl-cumae/ à The Sibyl of Cumae, Italy
Siduri (right) is pictured here with one of
her seven acolytes, Sabitu (left). (Image Credit: Digital Art Created by the
Editor.)
Weekly Words of Wisdom
Contributed by S. A. “Solveig” Sonnenschein, Editorial Associate
"Poetry
is the breath upon which Life itself must feast."
à Robert
Louis Stevenson (1850-1894)
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