Gilgamesh - The Problem of Death

The Problem of Death
in
The Epic of Gilgamesh
Deanna Hart
Of the many themes weaving through The Epic of Gilgamsesh, the most
prominent seems to be that of humankind’s most basic conflict and life’s one
absolute – the problem of death. The idea of impermanence is an accepted notion
in most Eastern philosophies, one that has been integrated into acceptable belief
systems such as the Hindu belief of reincarnation. In the Bhagavad Gita we find
Arjuna on the battlefield unwillingly opposing his own kin. The god Krishna must
constantly remind him that the soul is eternal. “If any man thinks he slays, and if
another thinks he is slain, neither knows the ways of the truth. The Eternal in man
cannot kill; the Eternal in man cannot die… As a man leaves an old garment and
puts on one that is new, the Spirit leaves his mortal body and then puts on one that
is new’ (Bhagavad Gita ch2 vs 19, 22). In this philosophy, humans have no reason
to fear the transition of death because in reality death is merely a change in energy.
Our Western world however, finds its roots in the ancient Greco-Roman
civilizations; therefore, even in our postmodern, eclectic belief systems or agnostic
stances, death is shrouded in mystery and feared by many. Our entire medical
establishment is constructed around preventing the unpreventable. This is a
uniquely Western attitude, born millennia ago around the era during which the The
Epic of Gilgamesh was written.
Gilgamesh has a unique status amongst the people of his time. He is one
third human and two thirds god, leaving him with a “very human concern with
mortality, [a] search for knowledge and for an escape from the common lot of
man’ (Sandars, 1960, p7). He desires the comfort and privilege of a god yet lives
out the destiny of a mortal. The god in Gilgamesh revels in his popularity and
power as a king and hero but the human side desperately seeks eternal life on earth.
This frustrates him and sends him on a journey of discovery in an attempt to outwit
the ultimate fate of all humanity.
The writing of the epic has been dated around 2700 B.C.E., a time when
humans believe that unpredictable gods and goddesses rule the mortal worlds in
any way they see fit, usually according to the gods’ personalities and degree of
involvement in the human realms. Humans have little control over their destinies
under such circumstances and must constantly perform rituals to appease the gods.
Life may thus be prolonged with good deeds and the gods’ approval, but must, for
humans, inevitably end on earth when the spirit takes up residence in one of the
Underworlds.
Modern Western religions dictate a simpler fate for humanity than does the
ancient Mesopotamian world. If there is an afterlife, there is usually only one of
two places an individual can go after death – an eternal paradise with God and
angels or hell with its lake of fire and eternal weeping and gnashing of teeth.
During the Gilgamesh era however, the spirits of the dead descend into
Underworld realms where gods also reign and spirits of the dead continue to
“live”, tortured by the conditions that killed them. In The Odyssey, it is written
that the spirit of Achilles “bemoans his fate as one of the ghosts, claiming that he
would rather be a poor man’s slave on Earth than a ruler of the dead” (Littleton,
2002, p192). It would seem that Achilles, heroic human of many good deeds,
would find his spirit in the heaven-like Elysian Fields but the gods cannot be
reasoned with. These insecurities of life fuel Gilgamesh’s anxiety disposing him to
a preoccupation with finding the fountain of youth.
Gilgamesh is indeed a great king, accomplishing feats others could not.
Several times throughout the narrative, we are reminded how Gilgamesh built the
great walls of Uruk as though these strong walls themselves will withstand time.
Everything Gilgamesh has built is sturdy and without blemish. He is determined
that his name and his accomplishments, at least, should live on even if he must
succumb to death one day.
But Gilgamesh is restless and insatiable. He uses the men of his kingdom
for his own service as carpenters or warriors and steals their wives and children.
The people become exasperated with their king and beg the gods to do something
to quell Gilgamesh’s appetites, to create, perhaps, someone as great as Gilgamesh
in strength so that his attentions might be turned away from the people and towards
an adversary. The result is Enkidu, born and raised among wild beasts, natural
man, naïve of civilized man, and of the whims of gods and goddesses. The two,
instead of becoming adversaries, become inseparable companions and Gilgamesh
does indeed turn his attention to this companionship. However, with Enkidu by his
side he is even more eager to conquer that which no other man has been able to do.
When boredom overcomes him, he decides he must seek eternal youth in the
Cedar Forest where he will “establish [his] name stamped on bricks as [his] destiny
[decrees]” (Sandars, p 70) and if he dies in battle, at least his name will live on as
the great hero, Gilgamesh.
Enkidu represents Gilgamesh’s counterpart, his alter ego. Enkidu knows
nothing of death or an afterlife. He knows only about surviving in the present.
When Enkidu dies, Gilgamesh, despairing and unbelieving, refuses to relinquish
the corpse of his friend until he is forced to do so, and then has a statue of Enkidu
erected to preserve his memory. With the death of his companion, rather than
accept death as part of life, Gilgamesh is even more fiercely determined to find the
cure for death. He seeks out Utnapishtim, a human who was delivered from
mortality after surviving the great deluge. On his journey he comes upon Siduri
who reminds him that the lot of man is to be happy while he is alive. Even the
ferryman, Urshanabi cannot understand Gilgamesh’s urgency in “search of the
wind” (Sandars, p103) Utnapishtim, too, attempts to turn his mind to the present.
“There is no permanence. Do we build a house to stand for ever, do
we seal a contract to hold for all time? Do brothers divide an inheritance to
keep for ever, does the flood-time of rivers endure? It is only the nymph of
the dragon-fly who sheds her larva and sees the sun in his glory. From the
days of old there is no permanence. The sleeping and the dead, how alike
they are, they are like a painted death. What is there between the master and
the servant when both have fulfilled their doom? When the Anunnaki, the
judges, come together, and Mammetun the mother of destinies, together they
decree the fates of men. Life and death they allot but the day of death they
do not disclose: (Sandars, p107)
Utnapishtim is eventually swayed and tells Gilgamesh of a plant that could

give a human eternal life. But the plant, once in his hands, is snatched away by a
serpent and Gilgamesh returns home empty handed and despairing, realizing his
holy grail is unattainable.
The Jewish Torah and Christian Bible are full of ruminations of death. “All
flesh is grass, man flourishes for a brief moment and then is cut off (Ps. 90:5 – 10;
103:15)…Man that is born of woman is of few days and full of trouble. Like a
flower he comes forth and his days are full of trouble. Like a flower he comes
forth and is withered; he flees like the shadow and does not endure” (Job 14: 1, 2).
It is interesting to note that that the entire book of the book of Ecclesiastes
ruminates over the same problem of finding meaning in a transient existence.
“The righteous and the wise and what they do are in God’s hands, but
no man knows whether love or hate awaits him. All share a common
destiny – the righteous and the wicked, the good and the bad, the clean and
the unclean, those who offer sacrifices and those who do not…For the living
know that they will die, but the dead know nothing; they have no further
reward, and even the memory of them is forgotten. Their love, their hate and
their jealousy have long since vanished; never again will they have a part in
anything that happens under the sun. [So] go, eat your food with gladness,
and drink your wine with a joyful heart. Enjoy life… all the days of this
meaningless life that God has given you under the sun… for this is your lot
in life” (Ecclesiastes 9: 1 – 8)
The tragedy of the epic is that Gilgamesh does not appear to surrender to the
transient nature of all things. This, in the Western culture, is our heritage and the
foundation of discontent. The epic has likely survived millennia because of its
commonality with of all humanity. We can identify with Gilgamesh’s journey.
Works Cited
The Bible, NIV, Grand Rapids, Zondervan Corporation: 1984
Heidel, Alexander, The Gilgamesh Epic and Old Testament Parallels.

Chicago, University of Chicago Press: 1975.
Littleton, C. Scott, ed., Mythology The Illustrated Anthology of World Myth

& Storytelling. San Diego, Thunder Bay Press: 2002
Mascaro, Juan trans, The Bhagavad Gita. London, Penguin Books: 1962.
Sandars, N. K., The Epic of Gilgamesh. London, Penguin Books: 1972.

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The Problem of Death

Utnapishtim is eventually swayed and tells Gilgamesh of a plant that could

The Bible, NIV, Grand Rapids, Zondervan Corporation: 1984

Heidel, Alexander, The Gilgamesh Epic and Old Testament Parallels.

Littleton, C. Scott, ed., Mythology The Illustrated Anthology of World Myth

Sandars, N. K., The Epic of Gilgamesh. London, Penguin Books: 1972.

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