Babylonian Job: Ludlul Bel Nemeqi -Tale of the Suffering Righteous One

The Origins of the Babylonian Job: Ludlul Bel Nemeqi

This is one of the most renowned pieces of Babylonian wisdom literature, known in its original Akkadian as Ludlul Bel Nemeqi. It has been translated multiple times and is often referred to as The Babylonian Job. Numerous studies have explored comparisons between this text and the biblical Book of Job, with the Babylonian version predating the biblical account by over a thousand years.

The protagonist of this narrative, identified as the Babylonian Job, is Shubshi-Meshre-Shakkan. He was a righteous man, closely associated with the gods and the king, and was known for his exemplary conduct. However, he suddenly encountered a severe trial that affected him socially, psychologically, and physically, leading to his complete downfall. The text introduces two main interlocutors—one from Nippur and another from Babylon—as well as three additional speakers who engage in dialogue with him.

The Purpose of the Text

The central aim of this composition is to explore the suffering that befalls a man when his god abandons him. The protagonist experiences relentless afflictions, yet the message remains one of patience and endurance. He is being tested, and if he does not blaspheme or curse his gods, the divine will ultimately return to him and relieve him of his misfortunes.

The text begins with praises to the Lord of Wisdom—Marduk. The writer describes how Marduk and his wife Zarpanit abandoned him, followed by the departure of his personal protective deity. The belief in a guardian deity (akin to an angel) was prevalent in later Babylonian traditions. Known as Lamassu (derived from the Sumerian Lama), this protective spirit interceded on behalf of individuals before the great gods, resembling the Egyptian concept of the Ka and the guardian angel in monotheistic religions.

Ludlul Bēl Nēmeqi Tablet (7th c. BC) | "Monologue of the Righteous Sufferer" | Nineveh, Ashurbanipal’s Library | British Museum → Louvre | Photo: Zunkir

Shakkan’s Suffering: Omens, Betrayal, and Divine Abandonment

Shakkan’s misfortunes begin with his departure from his home, aimlessly wandering as ominous signs foretell his tragic fate. These signs manifest in visions, overheard words in the streets, and cryptic messages that even his diviners and dream interpreters fail to comprehend. Social rejection follows—his colleagues at the royal court conspire against him, his servants turn against him, and even his closest allies abandon him, isolating him completely.

Excerpt from the First Section of the Poem

"I shall extol the Lord of Wisdom, the all-knowing one, who strikes the night and ushers in the day—Marduk, the Lord of Wisdom.

He who swirls all things like a storm Yet bestows calm like a gentle breeze.

None can resist him—his wrath is like a flood, Yet his heart overflows with compassion.

Even the heavens cannot endure his blows, Yet his tranquility revives the dead."

Shakkan laments his abandonment:

"My god has forsaken me, my goddess has turned away, The one who walked with me has vanished.

My protective deity has deserted me, My strength has faded, and I am stripped of all care.

Ominous signs engulfed me, forcing me from my home, Wandering aimlessly, tormented by dreadful omens.

I shunned the diviners and interpreters, For I could no longer discern my fate.

The words I overheard were dire warnings, And my dreams filled me with terror."

His decline intensifies as royal officials conspire against him:

"The first one declared: 'I shall end his life.' The second said: 'I will strip him of his position.' The third vowed: 'I shall seize his possessions.' The fourth plotted: 'I will take his home.' The fifth swore: 'I will ruin his life.' The sixth and seventh drove my guardian deity away."

These seven figures, akin to demons, unite against him:

"With a single voice, they spewed their flames of hatred. They muzzled my fearless tongue and silenced my eloquent speech."

As his social status collapses:

"My head, once held high, bowed in humiliation. My strong heart grew feeble.

My broad chest collapsed, My once-powerful arms became frail.

I walked along walls, lurking in shadows, Once a master, now a slave.

I became an outcast, pointed at in the streets. When I entered the palace, I was met with scorn.

The entire city turned against me, My homeland became my enemy.

My brother, my friend, my neighbor—all abandoned me. My own servant cursed me in court, My maid bore false witness against me.

Even my own kin regarded me as a stranger."

Divine Wrath, Sin, and the Mystery of Human Suffering

In this section, a deep theological dialogue begins, as if Shakkan realizes that the gods' anger toward him is the core of his suffering. He reflects on the nature of his relationship with the gods and how he had been fulfilling his duties to them.

This section sheds light on the concept of sin against the gods and the types of sins. A sin could be as simple as eating without mentioning the god, or it could be a direct crime against the god.

The text then transitions to the great existential questions: "Who among us knows what the gods hold in heaven or in the depths?" It addresses fate and how people's circumstances can change in an instant due to it.

In the final part of this section, the text explores the philosophy of illness and how it occurs. It suggests that the symptoms of illness in humans are manifestations of the underworld's influence, reaching humans due to their sins. For example, a cold comes from the Apsu (the abyss), and fever from the underworld. These influences attack the body's organs, causing illness and leading the person to delirium and meaningful dreams.

The next part of the poem reads:

"Time passed, year after year, and no matter where I turned, calamity followed calamity and evil grew around me with no hope. I cried out to my god, but he turned his face away from me. I pleaded with him, but he did not listen. I begged my goddess, but she did not turn to me. The soothsayer could not predict my future, and the dream interpreter could not reveal my condition.

I pleaded with the spirits of the dead, but they paid no attention to me. The exorcist could not untie the knot. They say, 'His condition is strange.' Behind me lies ruin, like someone who has no offerings or like one who called his god to a meal but did not bow to him. Like one whose mouth stopped reciting prayers, who forgot the rituals of his god, who did not teach his children to respect the gods, who ate his food without mentioning his god, who forgot his gods. Remembering the gods was my joy, praying to them was my wisdom, offering to them was my duty, circling their temples was my trade, praying to them was my delight, and listening to their music was my happiness.

I taught my country and my family to respect the rituals of the gods. I respected the king and taught the people to fear the palace. I saw this as good, but what was good for us displeased the god. What we hated was good for the god. Who among us knows what the gods hold in heaven? Who among us knows what the gods hold in the depths?

How can we know the ways of the gods? Look, the one who was healthy yesterday stands on the brink of death today, and the one who was sad rejoiced for a moment and sang, then grieved again. People change in an instant. They become like corpses when they are hungry and like gods when they are full. They speak of reaching heaven when they are happy and of hitting rock bottom when they suffer. I ask myself about all this, but I do not understand what is happening.

I am exhausted, as if a whirlwind is behind me, and a wind is blowing toward me. Fever spread around me from the underworld, and a cold emerged from the Apsu. From the mountain came the demons of Utukku, and from the heart of the mountain descended the demoness Lamashtu. From the river's flood came the cold shivers, and with the greenery grew sickness.

All these pains approached me, attacked my head, and tightened around my skull. My face became gloomy, and my tears flowed. The pains crawled to my neck, paralyzed it, and struck my chest and ribs. They tormented my body and ignited a fire in my stomach. My body trembled, and the pains shook my structure like a collapsing wall.

My family mourned me, and the bolt of my door was locked. I was thrown into bed, stung by a thorny whip, and my limbs were torn apart. The exorcist could not uncover my illness, and the soothsayer could not resolve it. My grave was open. My illness caused me to lose consciousness and made me delirious. My groaning continued, and I dreamed while awake."

Shakkan's Dreams

The three dreams of the tormented Shakkan foretell the appearance of three figures in his first dream: a messenger of the goddess, her priest, and the goddess herself—possibly Sarpanitu, the wife of Marduk. All of them indicated his healing.

Dreams were seen as omens of good or evil, and this is how dream interpreters explained them.

The poem continues:

"I dreamed of a tall man, dressed in pure white, radiant and awe-inspiring, standing before me. He said, 'I have been sent by the lady to tell you...' I had a second dream in which a purification priest appeared, holding a branch of tamarisk for cleansing.

He said, 'I have been sent by Lal-ur-alim, the priest of Nippur, to purify you.' He poured water over me, recited the incantation of life, and anointed my body. In the third dream, I saw a woman of stunning beauty, a queen of nations like a goddess, sitting by my bed.

I said to her, 'Plead for mercy on my behalf.' She said, 'Do not fear; I will be your intercessor.' She chanted, 'Mercy to those whose pains are like yours, whoever they may be, and to all who receive this vision.' Then Urnindinlugga appeared to me like a young man with a beard and a turban. In his hand was a tablet, and he said, 'I have been sent by Marduk to tell you, O Shakkan, your relief is near.'"

The god Marduk heals Shakkan from his illnesses

The illness is healed when the god returns to the patient, followed by the exorcist, who restores the materials of the underworld, the Apsu, and the mountains to their places through incantations and incense.

The work concludes with praise for the god Marduk, his wife, and the guardian angel, and the fulfillment of the vow made by the healed patient by performing rituals before Marduk's temple and setting up a feast. The just man returns to his normal state thanks to Marduk, ritually passing through the twelve gates of Marduk's temple in Babylon.

The poem says:

"Marduk gave me a sign. He rescued me from my illness and freed me from my bonds. My god's heart was appeased, and he accepted my prayers. He granted me grace and untied the knot of my sins. He made the wind carry away my sins.

The exorcist placed the incantation near me and drove the evil wind to the horizons. He returned the fever, the cold, the demon Utukku, Lamashtu, and the shivers to their places. He dispelled the numbness like smoke. He carried away my calamities and groans to the earth. He removed the pain from my head, the residues of death from my eyes, the silence from my ears, the fever from my nose, the flame from my lips, and the mist from my mouth.

Marduk, who closed the mouth of the lion that was devouring me, Marduk, who removed the sling of the one pursuing me on the riverbank. He anointed my forehead, and the people saw Marduk restore me to life. Who will see the sun without Marduk?

Who will walk his path without him? Marduk, who revives the dead—sing to him and glorify him, O people. And now I have returned to prostrating myself. At his gates, my guardian angel has returned.

At the gates of salvation, life, the sun, clarity, the herald, the absolution of sins, praises, the suppression of groans, pure water, salvation, and ultimate perfection, I stood. I placed fragrant incense before me and piled up offerings and sacrifices. I sacrificed fattened bulls, slaughtered sheep, and offered wine and honey. For Marduk, my guardian angel, the priests, and the temple, I spread abundant tables of food that gladdened hearts."