The Epic of Gilgamesh

My sophomores are studying ancient Eastern literature, and over the past few days we have read and discussed the Epic of Gilgamesh. If you're not familiar with it, it is one of the oldest pieces of literature that is still around today and was written shortly after the Flood in the Mesopotamian land of Sumer. Although it's a long and somewhat fragmentary work, we studied small sections of it and particularly focused in on its portrayal of the "Sumerian Flood Story."

In the Epic of Gilgamesh, a huge flood comes and destroys the whole world, but there is one man (and his family) who are able to survive. This man is named Upnatishtim (though we just called him Tim in class :). After the flood waters pass, he sends out a bird from the huge boat he has been living on and, upon disembarking, offers sacrifices to his gods. Sound familiar?
It should sound quite similar to the story of Noah in Genesis, though there are a few key differences. First, the length of the floods are a bit different, and the purpose of the two floods are also dissimilar; whereas God sent the Biblical flood to destroy corrupted mankind, the Sumerian gods simply sent this flood because they were bored. Despite these seemingly minor constrasts, however, the truth remains that there are still quite a few similarities between the two tales. My question, then, was this: Does this undermine or endanger our Christian faith in any way?

Such a discussion brought me back to my first semester at Wheaton in the fall of 2005. When I was in high school, I definitely knew the Lord and felt like I really was walking with Him daily. My faith -- even then -- was my own, and not only that of my parents. When I entered Wheaton that fall, I expected that all of my Bible classes would only contirbute to strengthening my faith in this sort of feel-good sermon/ church camp way, but that was NOT the case my first semester. Every Tuesday and Thursday at 11:15, my faith was tested -- and often broken -- by my Old Testament Archaeology class. Our professor, Dr. Master, wasn't necessarily seeking to destroy our faith, but he was certainly throwing out some difficult questions: "If you believe in the fall of Jericho, why aren't there any archaeological remains that prove that it actually happened?" or "If you believe in the Creation narrative in Genesis, why do you take that as truth over the Enuma Elish, the Babylonian Creation narrative that was written about the same time? Couldn't the writer of Genesis have simply made up his own story using the Enuma Elish as his primary source?" Tough questions. Questions that I had never even considered answering before. Questions that were slowly breaking my faith and causing me to question the very foundation of my belief system.

I was essentially asking my sophomores a similar question today, though I (hopefully) wasn't quite as "no-nonsense" about it as my archaeology professor was. It actually didn't seem to bother most of them, and to be honest, it probably would not have bothered me that much when I was 15, either. What I was thankful for, though, was that hearing those questions asked over again didn't phase me this time around. After truly wrestling with the Lord that first semester, I finally came to terms with the fact that our religion is called the "Christian FAITH" for a reason -- that is, it requires much faith to believe! We will never have every answer, and not every detail of history or of the Bible will ever be completely reconciled. The beauty of it, though, is that it doesn't have to be for our faith to continue.

While I am thankful that period of doubt in my life is over, I never want to stop being fascinated by the mystery of who God is. My prayer is that I will not be frustrated by what I don't know, yet I will also not be satisfied with what I already DO know. May we all seek to continually understand the complexity and mystery of our great Savior.