Sara J. Milstein, University of British Columbia*8 The “Magic” of Adapa

In recent years, scholarship on OB literature has largely centered on its peda-gogical function. Drawing on tablet typology and literary catalogues, scholarshave managed to reconstruct both elementary and advanced phases in the OBscribal curriculum.1 These studies represent a major breakthrough in our per-ception of Near Eastern literature and help situate it within its broader socio-cultural landscape. The archaeological context for the two Tell Haddad (= an-cient Meturan/Sirara) copies of Adapa (= Adapa in Akkadian), however, offersone point of entry in a different direction. Like the school texts, these copiesare in Sumerian and date to the OB period, with a terminus ad quem of the 31st

year of Hammurabi’s reign, or approximately 1760 BCE (Cavigneaux 1999: 252).The tablets are each four columns long and were apparently copied by different

* This essay would not be possible without the insights and generosity of Antoine Cavigneaux.Not only did his 1999 essay on magical texts at Tell Haddad inspire this line of reasoning inthe first place, but he also provided me with advance access to his much-anticipated editionof the Tell Haddad version of Adapa (Cavigneaux 2014). To him I offer my sincerest gratitude.All references to the Tell Haddad version derive from his translation. I also wish to thankDaniel Fleming for offering swift and crucial and feedback on this essay at multiple stages inits development, and the participants in the symposium for their helpful comments.1 Much rests on the foundational work of Civil (1969), who analyzed collections of tablets atmultiple locations and divided them into four types of formats. Type I tablets are large multi-columned tablets; Type II are large “teacher-student copies” that contain extracts with oneside inscribed by the teacher and the other inscribed by the student; Type III are single-columnextracts of compositions; and Type IV are round tablets, or “lentils,” that consist of 2–4 linesof a composition and show signs of inscription by teachers and students, like Type II. The firstmajor application of this data was by Veldhuis (1997), who used it to reconstruct four phasesin the elementary scribal curriculum at OB Nippur. Scribes, he proposed, started with theacquisition of basic writing techniques (e.g., sign exercises; syllabic value lists); moved on tolearn Sumerian nouns and nominal phrases; then turned to complex sign lists and mathemat-ics; and finally advanced to copying full sentences. Tinney (1998 and 1999) then determinedthat advanced scribes learned two sets of literary compositions: the “Tetrad,” a group of fourrelatively simple hymns, and the “Decad,” a set of ten more advanced hymns and narratives.Robson (2001) provided confirmation for this hypothesis in her analysis of tablet finds atHouse F, a school house at Nippur dating to the 1740s BCE that yielded about 1,400 tablets.Numerous exemplars of texts from the Tetrad and the Decad were found at House F alongsideschool exercises, a situation that matches the data from other OB school houses, both insideand outside of Nippur. For a comprehensive analysis of variation in the Decad, see Delnero2012.

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hands (Cavigneaux 1999: 253 n. 13).2 Notwithstanding some semantic variation,the two are close enough to warrant the label “the Tell Haddad version” (TH).It does not appear, however, that the myth of Adapa functioned either in thiscontext or in the OB period more broadly as a “school text.”3 Not only is Adapaabsent from the OB literary catalogues, but its attestations in this period arelimited to the two TH copies and to a small fragment of the myth from Nippur.4According to Cavigneaux (2014), there are only limited points of overlap be-tween TH and the Nippur fragment, indicating that Adapa was not fixed in theOB period.

Until this discovery, the myth was known only in Akkadian.5 The bestknown version is a large MB tablet from the “Records Office” at Amarna (“Frag-ment B” in Izre’el’s [2001] nomenclature). We also have five NA fragments fromAssurbanipal’s library, including an unparalleled prologue to the myth (Frag-ments A and A1) and a substantially different conclusion than what we find atAmarna (Fragment D). Much is missing from this late version (or versions), butwhat we do have suggests a longer rendition than Fragment B by at least 40lines, if not more. With the Tell Haddad discovery, we then have evidence for afairly complete version that predates the oldest Akkadian material by about 400years! This offers a wholly new and much earlier context in which to under-stand the raison d’être and/or “use” of the tradition in Mesopotamian society.

1 Text in Context: The Tell Haddad VersionBoth OB and NB tablets were discovered at multiple locations at Tell Haddad(Cavigneaux 1999: 252). Among the OB finds was a concentration of tablets in

2 Cavigneaux (2014: 1–2) refers to the two TH copies as “A” and “B.” He notes that the ductusof A is similar to the most common ductus in the collection of texts in Area II, including non-literary texts, while the rarer ductus of B is limited to literary and magical texts.3 See Delnero (this volume) for a list of texts in the OB core curriculum; Adapa is not represen-ted. Although TH does conclude with the zà-mí doxology, this is directed at “Father Enki”(line 190) rather than the scribal goddess Nisaba, as is customary in the school texts. After theOB period, we do find one reference in a literary catalogue to “Adapa, in the midst of heaven…”; for Picchioni, this represents the incipit of the myth (1981: 87).4 While a limited number of attestations need not rule out the usage of texts in curricularcontexts, this is more the exception than the rule. Delnero (this volume) points out that for the106 compositions that may be identified as “curricular compositions,” 86 of 106 are attestedin 5 or more copies, with 46 of these attested in 20 or more. Moreover, at least 69 of the 96texts whose incipits are known are referenced in inventories that list curricular texts.5 Due to the widespread familiarity with the Akkadian version(s), I have elected to use theAkkadian terms for the myth as default, rather than the Sumerian (e.g., Anu vs. An; Ea vs.

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“Area II,” a small unit that may have belonged to a destroyed private residence.The cache included administrative documents, contracts, letters, mathematicaltexts, school texts, and a substantial group of Sumerian literary, liturgical, andmagical texts (Cavigneaux 1999: 251). Notably, Area II was the only locationthat yielded magical tablets, including three versions of what appears to havebeen a “classic” collection in its time (Cavigneaux 1999: 253–54).6

The literary texts that were discovered at Area II are classified by Cavi-gneaux (1999: 253) into four genres: myths and legends, didactic literature,religious texts, and royal hymns/literary letters. In the category of “myths andlegends,” the house contained only a handful, and all Sumerian: Adapa, Inan-na and Ebih, and four Gilgamesh stories: Gilgamesh, Enkidu, and the Nether-world, Gilgamesh and Huwawa, the Death of Gilgamesh, and Gilgamesh andthe Bull.7 The literary tablets were largely clustered in Room 30, a room thatalso included about half of the magical tablets that were found at the house.The other half, which were almost identical to those found in Room 30, werefound in Room 10, prompting Cavigneaux (1999: 253) to treat the two groupsas a unit. This relatively small group of literary texts – and of myths and leg-ends in particular – raises the question as to why these texts were present andnot others. This question is further compounded by the fact that the literarytablets were stored alongside magical texts. These questions were not lost onCavigneaux, who posited a possible explanation in his essay on what he callsthe Tell Haddad “library.” For Cavigneaux (1999: 256–57), the owner of the

Enki, etc.). When referring to details that are singular to the Tell Haddad version, however, Iuse the Sumerian terms so as to emphasize the distinction, though the term “Adapa” (versus“Adaba,” as it appears in the Sumerian) is retained for the sake of consistency. See also Cavi-gneaux’s (2014: 36–37) note on the name.6 The collection (H 97, H 179, and H 84) includes formulations against human aggression, apiece of “magic poetry,” and texts with “academic overtones” that appear to have includedliterary quotations or resonances. The longer versions of the collection include additional apo-tropaic texts. Other tablets outside of the collection then yield content of various types, suchas rites against vermin (H 103 and 74), praise of the tamarisk, which was used by the exorcist(H 62 + 94), execution of a special goat used in magical house-cleaning (H 66), formulaeagainst ghosts (H 144 B), and formulae against scorpions (H 60 and H 146). With the excep-tions of H 72 and the medical prescriptions H 170, the magical texts were all in Sumerian(Cavigneaux 1999).7 With the exception of Gilgamesh and Huwawa, the other Gilgamesh tales were representedin two copies each (Cavigneaux 1999: 253 n. 12). Notably, there was found here an early effortto join Gilgamesh, Enkidu, and the Netherworld with Gilgamesh and Huwawa; at least, anappendix at the end of the former suggests that the latter was meant to be read afterwards(Cavigneaux 1999: 256–57). For a list of the other literary texts in the collection, see Cavigneaux1999: 253.

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house was perhaps an exorcist, and more probably an intellectual who was“sensitive in the realms of religion and literature” and who was preoccupiedby matters of life and death.8 Regarding the presence of these myths in thecollection, he notes that this set of Gilgamesh stories was largely concernedwith death and the netherworld, while Adapa is “the paragon of the exorcist,the model of the sage, who … had a choice between life and death, and cameback with some experience useful for his fellow humans.”9 The question re-mains, however, as to whether the Area II context at Tell Haddad indicates astronger link between magical texts and the Adapa tradition. Namely, mightthe structure of magical rituals provide the key to a fresh understanding of thelong-perplexing myth?

2 The Opaque Nature of AdapaNotwithstanding substantial overlap in parts, the three sets of evidence aredistinct enough to warrant independent descriptions. I shall begin with theAkkadian material before moving on to TH.

2.1 The Middle Babylonian Version of Adapa (Fragment B)

In addition to the substantial collection of letters written to the Egyptian courtthat were found at Amarna, there is a much smaller group of “scholarly” tab-lets that is comprised of lexical texts, syllabaries, exercises, and literary tablets

8 Regarding the interest in matters of life and death, Cavigneaux (1999: 257) attributes thismore broadly to the people who lived in Meturan.9 The figure of Adapa appears in a wide range of sources outside mythic literature (e.g., let-ters, royal monuments, incantations, and catalogues), where he is commonly portrayed as anexorcist and/or sage. For a useful survey, see Picchioni (1981: 82–101) and more recently, San-ders (forthcoming). With several exceptions, most date to the first millennium BCE. For the OBperiod, see the Sumerian forerunner to Udug-Hul (“Evil Demons”) from Nippur: “I am Adapa(sage of Eridu) / I am (the man of (?) Asalluhi” ([FAOS 12: 22 lines 60–61], following Geller’s[1985] reconstruction and translation. I thank Seth Sanders for providing me with a draft ofhis manuscript). The notion that Adapa had a “choice between life and death” representsCavigneaux’s own interpretation of the available literature. Adapa’s “useful” experience surelyrefers in some way to his association with the seven sages who were said to “ensure the correctfunctioning of the ordinance of heaven and earth” (for discussion, see Izre’el 2001: 2); thesentiment is echoed in Fragment A: 2′.

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(including Adapa).10 The combination of letters and scholarly tablets suggeststhat the Records Office (= Q42.21) was the locus both for letter-writing andinterpretation and for the education of Egyptian scribes in cuneiform (Kemp2012: 126 and Izre’el 1997: 8–9).11 Given that Akkadian was the lingua franca ofthe region in the second millennium BCE, training in cuneiform would havebeen crucial for diplomatic correspondence. Although the scholarly tabletsmay be only a fraction of the tablets used at Akhetaten, they may indeed pro-vide some sense of the scribal curriculum that was used toward this end (Izre’el1997: 9).

A number of the scholarly tablets exhibit parallels with material eitherfrom Hatti or Ugarit, which itself was influenced by the Hittito-Akkadianschool. Such suggests that this content was imported from these regions(Izre’el 1997: 11).12 At the same time, a small subset of the tablets, including EA356 (Adapa), EA 357 (Nergal and Ereshkigal), EA 358 (an unparalleled narra-tive), and EA 372 (another small fragment), differs from the other scholarlytablets with regard to their form, script, and language. Izre’el (1997: 11) notesthat these tablets feature a ductus that is similar to that of Babylonian lettersthat were sent to Amarna. This suggests that these texts were imported from aregion with access to Babylonia proper.13 It is worth adding that all but onedisplay the Egyptian practice of applying red points to the tablet at intervals.14

10 Izre’el (1997) published the full collection of 29 numbered tablets and fragments. The ma-jority is comprised of syllabaries and lexical and other practice tablets; nine are literary textsof some sort (2).11 See also Artzi 1990: 152, who refers to a small “edubba” that was transferred to Akhetatenfrom elsewhere, most likely from Thebes.12 For support concerning the hypothesis that it was the Hittites who originally taught theEgyptians cuneiform, see Beckman 1983: 112–14. Two literary tablets (the šar tamhāri epic andthe story of Kešši) have direct parallels with literature from Hatti. The linguistic peculiaritiesof these texts are linked to Boghazköy Akkadian and thus prompt Izre’el (1997: 10) to concludethat they may be copies of original Boghazköy tablets. The syllabaries and lexical lists thenshow more parallels with material from Ugarit. Artzi (1990: 143–45) charts the parallels be-tween the pedagogical texts of Akhetaten and those found in Canaan, Ugarit, Boghazköy, andAlalakh. More recently, see also Rutz 2013: 158–276, who adduces evidence for Emar as anotherwestern site with scholarly texts that overlapped with those found at Hattusha, Ugarit, andAmarna.13 Izre’el (2001: 11) posits the Syrian periphery of Mesopotamia. With regard to form, theobverse of these tablets is the convex, rather than the flat side; they also display both MiddleBabylonian and Peripheral Akkadian features. Again, this need not mean that the tablets them-selves were imported into Egypt, as Izre’el (1992: 184) concluded early on. For further discus-sion, see Izre’el 2001: 49–54.14 Izre’el (1992: 181; 2001: 81–91) takes the view that these points were used to divide a textinto meaningful units, and that for Adapa, they mark metreme boundaries. Yet see also Goelet

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With only a few lines missing at the beginning of the obverse and at theend of the reverse, it appears that Fragment B once covered the tale in about75–80 lines (Izre’el 1997: 47). While there is a possibility that Fragment B oncebelonged to a series of tablets, this seems unlikely. Firstly, Fragment B ismarked by a clear beginning, middle, and end. Notwithstanding the few miss-ing lines at both ends, the tablet opens with the key conflict – Adapa cursingthe South Wind and breaking its wing – and closes with its resolution, opaqueand broken though it may be. Moreover, Fragment B has only one column perside. If the narrative were twice or three times as long, we might expect thescribe to have copied it onto a multicolumn tablet. It thus appears that thetablet was intended to function independently as a complete copy of the narra-tive.15

The first legible lines of Fragment B show Adapa breaking the “wing” ofthe South Wind. This bold speech act – one that may have halted vegetation –prompts Anu to send for Adapa.16 Before the messenger even arrives, Ea pre-

2008: 109, who considers that the general system may denote “check marks” that were appliedby the student or the teacher when the document was checked against a master copy. Thesepoints appear most frequently in two types of literature – didactic texts and late copies ofMiddle Kingdom literature – but with irregular usage. Goelet (2008: 109 n. 37) notes furtherthat the points do not always appear where one might expect (e.g., hymnic material) andinstead are present in some “mundane, un-poetic letters and similar documents.” Althoughhe allows for the possibility that the red points in Adapa signify metric units, ultimately hecontends that the “didactic/scribal” usage is more likely.15 Another possibility is worth noting, however. This pertains to EA 357 (Nergal and Ereshki-gal). Like the Amarna copy of Adapa, EA 357 has one column per side and does not appear tohave belonged to a series of tablets. It is possible, however, that EA 357 does not contain acomplete version of the myth. In line 87, Nergal kisses Ereshkigal and responds to her requestthat he marry her. In line 88, however, the phrase “till here” appears. While Dalley (2000: 181)reads the phrase as an emphatic close to Nergal’s statement: “It shall certainly be so,” othershave taken these words to be extraneous to the text, perhaps representing oral instructions bythe teacher to the student to stop inscribing the tablet due to space constraints (Izre’el 1997:60–61). In that sense, the words would have been copied by accident. Whether or not the talewould have continued, however, is unclear. The SBV is sufficiently different from the Amarnaversion so as to obfuscate the question further. What this might mean for the end of FragmentB is difficult to say. Was this tablet also not long enough to contain the entire tale? Is it possiblethat the incantation against the South Wind, which is present in both the OB and NA evidence,was simply eliminated due to space constraints? For further discussion, see Milstein 2015. ForCavigneaux (2014: 39), the scholars responsible for Fragment B appear to have eliminated theincantation in favor of a conclusion that served no utilitarian function. However we interpretthe evidence, it is important to emphasize that Fragment B may only give the appearance ofnot knowing the South Wind incantation.16 After examining Iraqi meteorological reports from 1956–1958, Roux (1961: 19) concludesthat the southern wind, more than the others, plays an essential role with regard to vegetation

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pares Adapa for his ascent to heaven by dressing him in mourner’s clothes,prepping him with a joke to charm the divine gatekeepers, Dumuzi and Gizzi-da, and coaching him for his upcoming exchange with Anu. Anu, Ea antici-pates, will offer him “the food of death” and “the water of death” (29′–30′),and he must not partake. He will, however, also offer clothing and oil, both ofwhich are acceptable. Adapa ascends to heaven and pitches the joke to thegatekeepers, who are amused. When they bring Adapa to Anu, Anu interro-gates Adapa: “Come, Adapa, why did you break the wing of the South Wind?”(48′–49′). Adapa explains: while fishing at sea for his lord, “he” (presumablyEa) cut the sea in half and the South Wind blew, causing him to drown. Thestatement prompts a shift in outlook for Anu, as it dawns on him that Ea “isthe one who has done this” (59′). In response, Anu demands that Adapa bebrought the food of life and the water of life. But Adapa, assuming their toxici-ty, refuses (60′–63′). He does, however, accept the oil and clothing. Anu re-sponds by laughing, asking why he did not eat or drink, and exclaiming, “Alas,poor people!” (line 68′). Adapa reports that Ea told him not to eat or drink, butat this point it seems to be too late. In the last visible line, it appears that Anureturns Adapa to the qaqqaru, a term that signifies either earth or the under-world. At this point, unfortunately, the tablet breaks off, leaving Adapa’s fateunknown.

2.2 The Neo-Assyrian Version(s) of Adapa

Five fragments of Adapa bearing a NA ductus were found among the 30,000clay tablet fragments discovered at Assurbanipal’s libraries at Nineveh. In the7th C BCE, the king called for the mass acquisition of tablets from Babylonianand Assyria for his collections.17 It appears that Assurbanipal’s goal was tocollect and/or copy all tablets that were worthy of preservation, with no at-tempt to create an “official” collection (Lieberman 1990: 306).18 We thus can

in the region: “Sans lui, non seulement les dattes mûrissent mal, mais la sécheresse s’abat surle pays et les récoltes sont compromises.” Despite the attractiveness of this theory, it is impor-tant to note that such is not made explicit in the myth in any of its versions, even in TH orFragment D, both of which conclude with incantations that appear to associate the South Windwith both the onset and removal of disease.17 Given that texts were found in a number of locations at Kuyunjik, including two or threepalaces and at least two temples, Michalowski (2003: 116–17) notes that it is only fitting torefer to the “libraries of Assurbanipal.”18 Lieberman notes further that the “normative, divinely-sanctioned quality of the term ‘can-on’ cannot be applied to ancient Near Eastern literature.” By extension, he rejects the use ofthe term “official” to describe the tablets in Assurbanipal’s library (308). Cf. Oppenheim 1977:

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make no assumptions about the status of the Adapa material found there,which includes two variants (Fragments A and A1) and three fragments thatcover different parts of the tale (Fragments C, D, and E).

As is clear from the existence of Fragments A and A1, the library preservedmore than one copy of the myth.19 Beyond this, however, it is difficult to deter-mine how many distinct versions are represented by the NA fragments and towhat degree these versions would have overlapped or diverged with one anoth-er. The best preserved among them are Fragments A and D, each of whichfeatures about twenty legible lines. It appears that Fragments A and D belongto the same basic rendition (Izre’el 2001: 59).20 Fragment A apparently oncehad two columns on each side, though only a fraction of the second columnon the obverse is visible, and the reverse is broken. It is unclear as to whetheror not the others were also originally multicolumn tablets.

Fragment A provides a backdrop to the narrative, one that details Adapa’sduties and his relationship with Ea.21 Ea, it appears, gave Adapa “wisdom, buthe did not give him eternal life” (4′). Adapa is identified as a sage and exceed-ingly wise among the Anunnaki. At Eridu, the ancient cultic center associatedwith Ea, we learn that the pure, anointed Adapa cooked, set the (cultic) table,

244, who upheld the view that Assurbanipal decided which tablets were to be preserved in thelibrary and which were not. For critique of this stance, see Lieberman 1990: 309–314.19 Whether or not these copies were complete, however, is a different question. Michalowski(2003: 118) observes that of all of the belles-lettres found in the libraries, not a single composi-tion is complete. Given that the same situation occurs in other first-millennium libraries, Mi-chalowski concludes that it was not “important” to collect whole compositions. At the sametime, even an expanded version of Adapa would be relatively short, and it is thus reasonablethat such a myth would have been originally preserved in its complete form.20 A set of linguistic and thematic links shared by Fragments A and D suggest that theybelong to the same version. For one, the two exhibit strikingly similar references to speech. InD: 6′, Anu asks who could have made his speech “like the speech of Anu?” (qí-bit-su ša ki-maqí-bit da-nu). Though broken, Fragment A: 2′ apparently anticipates this phrase with its refer-ence to “his speech like the speech of [DN]” ([q]í-bit-su ša ki-ma qí–bit d [x x x]). Both alsomake similar references to Adapa’s relationship to Ea. In Fragment A: 5′–6′, the narrator states,“In those days (ina ūmešuma) … Ea made [Adapa] his son among the people,” while in Frag-ment D: 9′–10′, the narrator states, “In those days (ina ūmišu) … Anu established [Adapa’s]freedom from Ea.” There is some variation in the restoration of the phrase in Fragment D; hereI follow Picchioni (1981: 122); von Soden (1976: 432) and later, Izre’el (2001: 41) reconstruct thecontracted form inūmišu. It seems, moreover, that the statement in A: 4′ regarding Ea’s refusalto give Adapa eternal life is used to set up Fragment D: 11′, where Anu decrees that Adapa’slordship be resplendent “in future days” (arkat ūmê). Read together, Fragments A and D ex-hibit a tug-of-war between Ea and Anu over Adapa, with Anu the final victor.21 Though broken, the obverse of Fragment A1 appears to overlap closely with A: 15′–23′(Izre’el 2001: 15–16).

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fished, and checked the gate-bolt.22 The last lines of Fragment A then featureAdapa at sea, some version of which could have launched Fragment B. Theintroductory language of this fragment (e.g., “In those days, in those years,”A: 5′) suggests that what is preserved must have been fairly close to the actualbeginning of the tablet.23

Fragment C overlaps the most with Fragment B and features 18 lines, someof which parallel Fragment B: 12′–20′. Enough is visible here to indicate that Eais preparing Adapa for his encounter with Anu by dressing him like a mourner.Fragment D then overlaps in part with Adapa and Anu’s exchange in B: 61′–66′. Here Adapa anoints and dresses, but again appears to reject food anddrink.24 Anu then muses, “Who made his speech exceed the speech of Anu?”(6′). Adapa, however, reports nothing more. In what appears to be a radicallydifferent resolution from that of Fragment B, Anu then establishes Adapa’s“freedom” from Ea (10′) and offers him protection. He further invokes Adapaas “a seed of humanity” who broke the wing of the South Wind and “ascendedto heaven” (12′–14′). Whether this refers to his initial trip or to a prolonged or

22 The association of Adapa with Eridu recurs six times, a noticeable difference from Frag-ment B, which has no visible reference to the city. The focus on Eridu, also part of TH, imbuesthe tale with antiquity. Eridu was said to be the oldest city in the world (as, e.g., in “TheBilingual Creation of the World by Marduk”), and there is indeed literary and archaeologicalevidence that indicates an early date for the city’s manifestation of political and religious au-thority early on. When the religious center shifted to Nippur in the OB period, the influence ofEridu waned, though its priesthood continued to be under royal authority through the Neo-Babylonian period (Green 1975: 379). Given this context, how do we account for the quantityof references in Fragment A to Eridu? Are they merely a late effort to imbue the tale withantiquity? Are they embellishments on a received tradition that indeed mentioned Eridu? Ordo they date back to an “old” prologue that put special emphasis on Adapa and his role atEridu? The problem cannot be solved simply with recourse to TH. There are two visible referen-ces to Eridu in TH, but both are merely part of epithets used to define Adapa (“son of Eridu”and “citizen of Eridu”). While we do see a parallel epithet in use for Adapa in Fragment A(“son of Eridu,” in 5′ and 16′), this is in conjunction with a greater focus on Adapa’s cultic roleat Eridu.23 Notably, TH launches with a similar set of phrases (“In those days … in those nights … inthose years …,” lines 1–3), yet what follows differs substantially from the contents of FragmentA. The trope appears at the beginning of other Sumerian works (see, e.g., the Instructions ofShuruppak; the Birth of Man). See Cavigneaux 2014: 39, who notes the prelude-like characterof Fragment A and rejects the possibility that it was preceded by another tablet.24 In fact, only Adapa’s anointing and dressing are visible (lines 2′–3′), though it appearsthat Anu “commanded” something and Adapa in turn did/did not do something (line 1′). Thelikelihood that Adapa first rejected food and drink is apparent from Anu’s response. Afterlaughing loudly at “the act of Ea,” Anu asks: “Who made his speech exceed the speech ofAnu?” (lines 4′–6′).

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even permanent stay is difficult to determine.25 The fragment finally concludeswith an incantation against the South Wind that appears to reference it as anagent of disease.

2.3 The Old Babylonian Version of Adapa

At about 190 lines, TH is more than twice the presumed length of the versionrepresented by Fragment B. This is due in large part to the inclusion of a 100-line introduction in TH that is absent from Fragment B. This introduction is setin the period after the Flood and focuses on the feeding of the gods and theorganization of mankind (Cavigneaux and Al-Rawi 1993: 92). It appears to havemore to do with humanity in general than with Adapa in particular. On theone hand, Adapa must have been mentioned before line 101, where he takesto the sea without introduction. On the other hand, it is not clear to what extenthe has been described prior to this point, given the fragmentary nature of thissection.26 At the very least, it is notable that 100 lines precede Adapa’s actualvoyage, a noticeable difference from what appears to be the case in the MBand NA evidence.

Lines 101–162 then share a number of parallels with what we find in Frag-ment B: 1′–46′. Adapa is fishing for Enki at sea when the South Wind raises (?)its storms. In response, Adapa curses and breaks its “wings.” An then sum-mons Adapa to heaven, and Enki prepares him for the exchange. In this ver-sion, Enki first warns Adapa not to partake of the deadly food and water thatAn offers him. He may not accept clothing, but he may accept oil. Enki thensends Adapa on his way by disheveling his hair, infesting it with lice, andproviding him with comic material to amuse Dumuzi and Ningishzida. Once inheaven, Adapa delivers the joke successfully, and the gatekeepers realize thatAdapa “paid attention to Enki’s orders” (line 162).27 They then deliver Adapato An. Here, however, An does not interrogate Adapa, but instead brings him

25 Sanders (forthcoming) argues that in Mesopotamian literature, the reference to someone“who ascended to heaven” denotes a round trip, not a permanent stay. It is true that in non-mythic writings, Adapa does not reside in heaven. At the same time, while Dumuzi and Gizzidaare chthonic gods in other texts, they are heavenly gatekeepers in the myth of Adapa. As such,the reality invoked by the myth may not parallel precisely the conceptions that lie beyond it.26 Cavigneaux (2014: 25) considers that the creation of Adapa is situated in the greater cosmo-logical context and is described in the vicinity of line 63. While Adapa’s name is not actuallyvisible, there are two references to “intelligence,” a trait elsewhere associated with him.27 It remains a question as to whether the gatekeepers say this aloud or this is an aside fromthe narrator, as Cavigneaux (2014: 27 n. 17) notes.

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“bread to eat” and “water to drink,” both of which he refuses (lines 167–168).He then offers clothing and oil. Adapa rejects the former but accepts the latter.An urges him to eat and drink, smiles, and then states that Enki “… preventedme from giving Adapa my life” (line 172). He then asks the gods why Adapabroke the wings of the South Wind. In contrast to Fragments B and D, nothingmore is said of Adapa’s fate. Enki “fixes the destiny” of the South Wind, andthe text concludes with an incantation that is to be said by a (sick?) man, withthe plea that the South Wind not “touch the skin” (line 182; see Cavigneaux2014: 28).28 The impression of the incantation is that the South Wind is respon-sible both for the onset of disease and for its departure, a notion that resonateswith its role in Fragment D.29

2.4 The Muddy Waters of the Adapa Tradition

Together, the diverse expressions of the myth provoke a number of questions,many of which revolve around Enki/Ea, the god who elsewhere is known toassist individuals in a bind. Did Ea intentionally trick Adapa by telling himthat Anu would offer deadly food? If so, why would Ea trick his own “son,” asAdapa is called in Fragment B?30 Alternatively, did Ea not realize that Anu

28 While the action is clearly negative, no verb is visible in the line. Surely some sort ofcontact is implied, given that the speaker then pleas for its removal. If “touching” is indeedimplied, it is possible that this is meant to contrast with the potential reference to the SouthWind in lines 34–35. According to Cavigneaux’s (2014) reconstruction and translation, theselines read: “[Le …] l’humanité ne ‘touchait’ pas … Le vent du [sud (?)] durant son règne (àEtana?) une main (un effet) bénéfique …” While such may imply a shift in the role of the SouthWind from beneficial to harmful, the broken context of lines 34–35 prevents us from drawingany solid conclusions.29 Different readings have been proposed for the role of the South Wind in Fragment D, how-ever. See, e.g., Izre’el 2001: 43, who interprets the incantation as something that is meant “toprotect against maladies caused by the striking of the South Wind”; see also Bottéro 1969–70:110.30 Such seems to contradict the role of Ea in other myths, where he is often portrayed asworking in opposition to other gods in order to save specific individuals. To cite but a fewexamples: in Atrahasis, when Enlil attempts to wipe out humanity, Ea provides Atrahasis withinstructions to save his life. In Gilgamesh, Enkidu, and the Netherworld, Enki enlists the helpof Šamaš to bring up Enkidu’s ghost from the netherworld. In the Descent of Inanna/Ištar,Enki/Ea rescues the goddess from the underworld by creating a figure to trick Ereškigal. In theSBV of Nergal and Ereškigal, Ea provides Nergal with a set of instructions designed to protecthim in the underworld: he must not sit on a chair, eat meat, drink beer, wash his feet, orcopulate with Ereškigal. This last example is most striking in light of Fragment B, where Ealikewise provides Adapa with a specific set of instructions regarding his journey to anotherrealm. In the case of Fragment B, however, Ea’s advice pertains to Adapa’s visit to heaven, not

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would offer Adapa life-giving food? If so, how could the god of wisdom notanticipate this?31 Anu’s “food of life” in Fragment B (cf. TH line 172, citedabove) is also ambiguous: was this meant to provide Adapa with eternal life,or was it simply intended to revive him? If the latter, does this mean that Adapawas dead, or at least in some sort of limbo state? Moreover, how should weunderstand An’s offerings in TH, where it is not clear that Adapa has evendrowned? The various conclusions are also perplexing. Why is nothing report-ed of Adapa’s fate in TH? In Fragment B, is Adapa sent to the underworld orback to earth? In Fragment D, does Adapa remain in heaven, or is he simplygranted lifelong protection? And why do TH and Fragment D close with anincantation against the South Wind? While the OB archaeological context maynot offer answers to all of these questions, it may help us chip away at theopaque nature of the Adapa tradition, bit by bit.

3 Magical Ritual and its Application to AdapaBefore considering the relationship between magical ritual and the Adapa tra-dition, let us outline a general framework for Mesopotamian rituals that wereused to combat illness or personal crisis. The best sources for these healingrituals are texts that describe an individual’s symptoms, diagnosis, and treat-ment, though other sources include the forty-tablet Diagnostic HandbookSA.GIG (“Symptoms”), select treaties and dedicatory texts, literary composi-tions concerned with theodicy, miscellaneous texts that refer to healers andpatients, and court letters that report illnesses and treatments (Abusch 2004:456).32 In the brief summary that follows, I draw on a variety of both “magical”and “medical” texts to reconstruct the broadest outlines of Mesopotamian heal-ing practice, with special emphasis on details that may have parallels in theAdapa material.33

the underworld, and only here do Ea’s instructions appear to be misleading. For a brief butexcellent overview of Ea/Enki’s role in Mesopotamian mythology, see Bottéro 1991.31 Nonetheless, see Furlani 1929: 160, who proposes that Ea does not anticipate Anu’s changeof heart.32 On the Diagnostic Handbook, with particular attention to its “rational” elements and struc-tural development, see Heessel 2004. The division of the handbook into forty tablets apparent-ly represents a tribute to Ea. Ea, who is said to be responsible for providing humanity withdiagnostic knowledge, is associated especially with the number forty (Heessel 2004: 101–102).33 The division in labor between the āšipu (“exorcist”) and the asû (often translated as “phy-sician,” though “herbalist” [Abusch 2004: 456] or “pharmacist” [Scurlock 1999: 78] may bemore apt) was not always clear. For Ritter (1965: 301–302), the āšipu viewed disease through

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Naturally, the healing ritual would be set in motion by the fact that anindividual had been struck by illness or crisis. This was thought to have beenbrought on either by “the hand of a god” or from the personal god’s abandon-ment of the individual, leaving him vulnerable to attacks by demons and thelike (Heessel 2004: 99). At this point, the seriously threatened victim was in alimbo state between life and death (Ritter 1965: 303). He or she would summonan exorcist (wāšipum/āšipu), whose first task was to examine symptoms andsigns in order to determine the responsible party (Heessel 2004: 100).34 Theimportance of this component deserves emphasis: until the supernatural causewas identified, the person could not be healed, for part of the therapeutic pro-cess involved reconciliation with the angry god (Heessel 2004: 99).

As Ritter (1965: 304) notes, the exorcist would then make a prognosis inthe form of a positive statement (most commonly, iballuṭ, or “he will live/recov-er”) or negative one (most commonly, imât, or “he will die”).35 In favorablecases, the illness would be combated through various ritual and/or medicinalmeans (Abusch 2004: 456). In terms of medicinal treatment, the victim mightbe directed to ingest, absorb, or come into contact with various solids (com-monly made from trees/plants, grains, vegetables, stones, etc.) and liquids(e.g., water, beer, blood, urine, etc.).36 Other materials, such as strips of cloth-ing and oil, were also used (Ritter 1965: 309).37 In Akkadian medical texts, the

the lens of supernatural causes; he made a diagnosis and a prognosis; he then instituted treat-ment to free the patient from the malevolent forces that attacked him. The asû, in contrast,did not ascribe symptoms to supernatural causes; he did not make prognosis before treatment;and his therapy was directed toward the relief of short-term symptoms. At the same time, shenotes that some texts indicate either the overlap of the two professions or their cooperation(Ritter 1965: 314–15). In a number of cases, after one failed to cure the patient, the other wouldstep in. The complementary and overlapping aspects of the two professions are emphasizedby Scurlock (1999: 78–79). To Scurlock’s (1999: 76) mind, “If we cannot separate asû fromāšipu, it is because we are looking for binary opposites where there are not any.”34 This process was not limited to examination of the physical symptoms of the afflicted indi-vidual. The exorcist might also consult liver omens, dreams, and/or terrestrial omens, especial-ly those viewed on the way to the patient’s house or those observed by visitors (Heessel 2004:100–102).35 The first phrase is documented 176 times; the latter, 423 times. Other phrases were utilizedless commonly (Ritter 1965: 302).36 Ritter (1965: 308) notes that the asû compounded drugs into a wide range of remedies,while the āšipu used a more limited selection of materials (preferring stones, wool, and aro-matics) to promote healing.37 The wool was apparently used to wrap the herbs and affix the bundle to the patient (Ritter1965: 311). Oil could be used to massage the medicinal blend into the skin (313) or for anointing(321).

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healing prescription is termed the bulṭu, from the verb balāṭu, “to live.” Thistreatment was often accompanied by recitation of an incantation by the āšipu(Abusch 2004: 457).38 He would also provide protection to ward off future at-tacks (Ritter 301).39

Let us now examine the plot of Adapa in its various manifestations so asto explore its potential kinship with magical healing rituals.

3.1 The South Wind

Although the first visible act of Fragment B is Adapa cursing the South Wind,Adapa’s subsequent exchange with Anu indicates that another act precipitatedhis. When Anu asks Adapa why he broke the wing of the South Wind, he re-ports: “I was catching fish in the middle of the sea for my lord’s house. He cutthe sea in half (tâmta ina mešēli inšilma), the South Wind blew, and me, shedrowned” (50′–52′) The dense nature of these lines is compounded by the factthat the translation “he cut the sea in half” (51′) is uncertain.40 It is clear,however, that an unnamed “he” performed some sort of act (inšilma) on thesea (tâmta, in the accusative case). Given that “my lord” (50′) is the last ante-cedent, and we know Adapa to be “Ea’s son,” it appears that Ea is the referent,as noted already by Knudtzon (1916) and later Izre’el (2001: 26). Moreover, thisact was accompanied by the blowing of the South Wind, and Ea is associatedwith the South Wind in several other texts. In an incantation, the South Windis identified as the “beloved of Ea” (naramti Ea). A Middle Assyrian text refersto the South Wind as “serving” Ea; and in a third text, the South Wind is as-signed to “Ea, father of the gods.”41

It thus appears that in Fragment B, Ea is the agent who acted upon the seaand prompted the South Wind to capsize Adapa. This is further supported by

38 Although the origin of the incantation recitation was likely in the domain of the āšipu, theasû was also known to recite incantations “as an ancillary or reinforcing therapeutic measure”(Ritter 1965: 309).39 For future protection in the context of namburbi ritual, see Caplice 1974: 12 and Maul 1999:124.40 Here I follow Izre’el (2001: 26), who prefers “He cut the sea in half,” to the translation “Thesea was (smooth) like a mirror,” which is grammatically problematic for a number of reasons.Reading the verb inšil (← imšil) as denoting “cut in halves,” Izre’el identifies ina mešēli as anemphasizing tautological infinitive, though notes that such a solution is imperfect.41 For the first text, see AfO XII pl. 10 rev. col. ii 24–7 (= K 9875); cf. JCS 29: 53; for the second,see RA 60: 73 rev. 3–6. For the third, see STT 400: rev. 37–40 // TIM 9: 60 iii 2–5 // K 8397 1–4(Livingstone 1986: 75). Izre’el (2001: 145) notes that the South Wind “is a tool in the hands ofEa.”

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Anu’s response: “Why would Ea show mankind what is bad in heaven andearth ... he is the one who has done this; and we, what can we do for him?”(B: 57′–60′). In the context of crisis and magical ritual, this sequence of eventscorrelates with the initial attack inflicted on the victim by the (hand of the)god and the identification of the responsible party by the āšipu. The SouthWind functions as the vehicle by which the god acts, and as is evident in magi-cal texts, such an act could be inflicted with or without just cause. Anu’s re-sponse indicates that he has now identified Ea as the catalyst of the attack.

It is not clear that the same scenario can be assumed for TH. Here, likewise,Adapa is fishing at sea when the South Wind blows and he curses it. Nowhereis it stated that he drowns, however, and neither Adapa nor Anu identifies Enkias the agent of the South Wind. While Enki does “fix the destiny” (line 180) ofthe wind at the end, there is no indication that this represents a punishmentfor his actions. Rather, it seems that Enki is simply the best god for the job,either because he is already associated with the South Wind, or because he isthe god who typically fixes things. Alternatively, the myth may provide an eti-ology for the Enki/South Wind partnership. In any case, it appears that theSouth Wind carries negative associations in this version. Not only is the Sume-rian term for the South Wind (tumu-ulu3 or tumu-ulu2) related to a term for“demon” (u18-lu, without the tumu determinative for wind), but the conclud-ing incantation makes explicit the link between the South Wind and disease.The word turns up in Akkadian as alû, a type of demon associated with sick-ness, with another term (šūtu) used exclusively for the South Wind. Althoughthe South Wind is not generally associated with demons or sickness in Akkadi-an literature, the incantation in Fragment D preserves the old link between theSouth Wind and disease. In both TH and Fragment D, the lifting of the SouthWind is required for the disease to depart.

3.2 Between Life and Death

In magical and medical texts, certain patients are identified as being in danger-ous or serious conditions. In her seminal essay on the āšipu and the asû, Ritter(1965: 303) categorized these conditions as “shadings between life and death.”In Fragment B, Adapa likewise appears to be in a limbo state between life anddeath.42 According to Adapa’s account of events, the South Wind submerged

42 Michalowski (1980: 80–81) understands Adapa to be in a liminal state, but reads this with-in the context of a rite of passage. In a short but influential essay, he asserts that Adapastumbled upon magical powers when he broke the wing of the South Wind. This prompted asequence of separation (Adapa travels to heaven), existence in a marginal state (in heaven),

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him and he was “plunged into the lord’s house” (53′). The reference appearsto be to the apsû, the subterranean cosmic waters that constitute Ea’s resi-dence.43 What it means for a human being to descend to the apsû is unclear,partly because the apsû is represented in such different terms throughoutMesopotamian literature. In some cases, the apsû is clearly an independentcosmic region; in others, it overlaps with rivers and marshes; in still others, itis identical with or connected to the oceans. There is even some evidence thatthe apsû was occasionally confused with the underworld or that it representedan underworld in some form (Horowitz 2011: 336–44).44 Given that both wereenvisioned to be underground, such conflation is not surprising.

What all of this implies for Adapa is difficult to say, though the myth doesdraw heavily on underworld themes in all of its versions. For one, Dumuzi andGizzida, the gatekeepers in heaven in TH and Fragment B, are traditionallychthonic gods. Second, Ea’s instructions to Adapa to avoid Anu’s offerings areredolent of Mesopotamian accounts of journeys to the underworld, where theindividual is instructed not to partake of various items lest he remain trappedthere. Indeed, part of the myth’s appeal appears to be the fact that Ea, the godwho elsewhere instructs individuals regarding their travels to the underworld,here provides his charge with instructions regarding his ascent to heaven.Third, in Fragment B: 70′, after Adapa rejects the food and water, Anu returnshim to the qaqqarīšu. While the term qaqqaru may be translated either as“earth” or “underworld,” the use of other terms for “earth” (erṣetu) or “land”

and reaggregation into society. He contends that Ea tricked Adapa into not accepting immortal-ity so that Anu would have to provide an institutionalized form for the magical power of words:ašipūtu. In the end, Adapa’s chance discovery was institutionalized and granted approval bythe gods.43 The Mesopotamians envisioned three earth regions: the Upper Earth, or the earth’s surface,the Middle Earth, or the apsû of Ea, and the Lower Earth, or the underworld, where 600 Anun-naki are imprisoned (Horowitz 2011: 274). The origins of Ea’s association with the apsû aregiven in Enuma Elish I 61–78, where Ea defeats the deified Apsu and establishes residenceatop him; Marduk later assigns the apsû to Ea in IV 137–46. See also Atrahasis, which portraysthe gods as drawing lots, a process that results in Ea descending to the apsû, with Anu ascend-ing to heaven and Enlil remaining on the earth’s surface. The SBV of the Gilgamesh Epiclikewise makes reference to Ea in the apsû (XI 41–42). In “Enki and Ninmah,” Enki is said tolie in the “deep engur (= apsû), in the flowing water.” See also Green 1975: 160–85 for acomprehensive list of various references to the abzu in Sumerian literature.44 In some texts, underworld gods and demons reside in the apsû, and the commentary toLudlul bēl nēmeqi may indicate that human ghosts were located there as well (Horowitz 2011:344). Horowitz (2001: 344) explains that the overlap likely came from empirical observation:when one dug a well, one reached the waters of the “apsû,” not the underworld, but gravesof the dead were located above groundwater.

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(mātu) elsewhere in Adapa may suggest that here, a different region is implied(Izre’el 2001: 141). It is worth adding that in the tale “Adapa and Enmerkar,”Adapa and Enmerkar, king of Uruk, descend nine cubits into the qaqqaru andenter a tomb; and in NA Fragment A, Adapa is identified as “exceedingly wiseamong the Anunnaki,” gods typically associated with the underworld.

3.3 Food, Water, Oil, and Clothing: Adapa’s “bulṭu”?

In response to the crisis at hand, Anu presents Adapa with food, water, oil andclothing, apparently in all versions. This response has traditionally beenviewed in the context of hospitality (Jacobsen 1976: 115). In TH, this may wellbe the case: An offers these items immediately upon meeting Adapa, with nodialogue between the two. These items represent “life” (line 172) but the rejec-tion of them does not entail death. In Fragment B, however, Anu’s role seemsto surpass that of the good host, with his effort to “do” something for Adapa,once he has learned what Ea “has done” (59′–60′). Just as the healing profes-sional would provide his patient with a bulṭu, so too Anu offers Adapa a “reme-dy” of life-giving food and water, oil, and clothing. As noted above, both grainand water were common elements in prescriptions. Oil and clothing were like-wise used in magical ritual, where occasionally we find reference to individu-als anointing themselves or shedding old garments and donning new ones (Ca-plice 1974: 14).45 In this case, Adapa’s refusal to take his “medicine” provokesan outcry from Anu. Whereas the optimistic āšipu would announce iballuṭ, “Hewill live!” Anu bemoans lā balṭāta: “You will not live!”

A further note is in order. Many scholars presume that Anu’s “food of life”in Fragment B represents immortality, which he rejects.46 The assumption isthat because Adapa already has wisdom, the only thing left for Anu to offer

45 In namburbi ritual, the removal of the old garments was a symbolic act that was designedto remove the impurity from the individual (Maul 1999: 128).46 Jacobsen (1930: 202) figured that the gods naturally ate the food of immortality, and thusEa, who did not want Adapa to become immortal, prevented him from eating by lying aboutthe food. For a similar stance, see Kramer and Maier 1989: 115–16, who assert that Adapa wouldhave gained immortality not only for himself but “for humankind generally.” Polak (1993: 138–39) asserts that Ea wished to retain Adapa as his servant and thus provided deceptive instruc-tions with regard to Anu. Yet cf. Liverani 2004: 8–10, who notes that the clothing and oil are“external” while the food and drink are “internal,” and that the acceptance of the first set isas crucial as the rejection of the second. For Liverani, Ea did not anticipate that Adapa’s ac-ceptance of the external items would actually change the course of events, so that Anu wouldoffer Adapa “good” food, not harmful food.

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him is eternal life. As Sasson (2008: 7) points out, however, there is no indica-tion that this is the case. For Sasson, “balāṭum has to do with life, but alsowith vigor and health; so we may presume that had Adapa partaken of it, hemight have felt renewed and refreshed; but not otherwise changed in a perma-nent way … .” Indeed, as Izre’el points out (2001: 31), the term balāṭu (“to live”)carries a range of meanings, none of which are associated with immortality:“to be well,” “to be healthy,” “to obtain food for keeping alive,” “to stay alive,”and “to live long.” In and of itself, there seems to be no linguistic basis forreading Anu’s statement lā balṭāta as “You shall not live eternally!”47 It is onlyin NA Fragment A: 4′ where we find direct mention of immortality, or moreprecisely, the lack thereof: “To him [Ea] gave wisdom; he did not give himeternal life” (napištu dārītu). While this may suggest that Anu would later offerAdapa what he lacks, it is important to note that this is not explicit in FragmentD. In any case, the contents of Fragments A and D represent a secondary frame-work for the myth, one that must not be read onto the other versions (Milsteinforthcoming).48 In Fragment B, at least, it appears that the food and water oflife are simply the items needed to revive the drowned Adapa.

3.4 Future Protection

In apparent contrast to both TH and Fragment B, Fragment D features an alter-native “happy” ending. After Adapa rejects the food and water, the narratorremarks: da-nu šá a-da-pa e-li-šú ma-ṣar-ta iš-k[un] / [x (x)] ki šá dé-a šu-ba-ra-šú iš-kun (lines 9′–10′). The first line is slightly opaque. Izre’el (2001: 39) reads“Anu set Adapa at his service.” He notes (41) that ša adapa elīšu, literally, “ofAdapa on him,” is an inverse genitive construction with a preposition that es-sentially means “on Adapa.” Given the fact that the maṣṣartu (“watchman,guard”) is set “over” Adapa, (elîšu), however, it seems more likely that Anupromises here to provide Adapa with a protective guard.49 This indeed accordsbetter with line 10′, where Anu establishes Adapa’s “freedom from Ea.” Togeth-er, these statements parallel the effort of the āšipu to shield the vulnerablevictim from future attacks.

47 For Izre’el (2001: 32), however, it is the next statement in line 68′ (“Alas for inferior humani-ty!”) that implies the loss of immortality, not simply life.48 With this statement, I do not include the concluding incantation in Fragment D, whichapparently had its origins in the OB period.49 Izre’el (2001: 41) also considers the possibility that Anu offers Adapa protection “againstAdapa’s again misusing his powers against the South Wind.”

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3.5 Concluding Incantation

Unlike Fragment B, TH and Fragment D close with an incantation against theSouth Wind. In both cases, the incantation appears to be somewhat detachedfrom the narrative that precedes it. In TH, as stated above, after Enki “fixes”the South Wind, we find an incantation that was designed to prevent the SouthWind from touching the body and bringing disease. The addressee (“lord”)appears to be Enki. In contrast to TH, the incantation in Fragment D has nospeaker and no visible reference to a deity. Here, too, however, the invocationappears to be used to mitigate the power of the South Wind, “who wickedlyset her blowing upon the people” (line 15′, here, Izre’el’s [2001: 39] transla-tion).50 While the two incantations differ in length and in content, the presenceof the incantation already in the OB period suggests that Fragment D proceedsfrom a line that retained the incantation throughout the process of transmis-sion. The appearance of the incantation in these two versions suggests that themyth may have been utilized in magical rituals pertaining to illness, at leastin some contexts.

4 Playing the Victim: The Magic Mirror ofAkkadian Adapa

I have attempted to demonstrate that the archaeological context for TH revealsa hitherto unrecognized link between the plotline of Adapa and magical heal-ing rituals. One realization that emerges, however, is the fact that the bestparallels with healing rituals are present in the Akkadian versions, not TH.While the incantation in TH indicates that the myth was tied to magic at anearly phase and was likely employed in magical ritual, these ties are fairlyconventional. The South Wind operates as the demon that must be held incheck; the concluding incantation makes this explicit. In this version, however,we do not encounter the playful spin on magical healing rituals that marks theAkkadian renditions. In TH, Adapa does not drown – and is hence not a proper“victim”; Enki is not explicitly identified as his “attacker”; and subsequently,An does not operate as “healer” per se. We learn nothing of Adapa’s fate, pre-cisely because the narrative is not even about Adapa in the end. Rather, the

50 Cf. Bottéro 1969–70: 110; Labat 1970: 294; and Izre’el 2001: 43, however, all of whom pro-pose that the incantation is used to protect against sickness caused by the striking of the SouthWind.

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text is concerned with the South Wind, a force that appears to be both necessa-ry and destructive to humans. In this context, the cosmological introductionthat sets the myth in the wake of the Flood makes sense, in that the tale seeksto account for the origins of things, including that of the winds.51 We have,then, a story that may have been used in magical healing rituals, but not onethat plays with the protocol of these rituals in any sort of innovative or unex-pected way.

The raw material of the narrative represented by TH, however, seems tohave inspired a new take on the tale that took the connection with magic in adifferent direction. This was facilitated especially by An’s statement that Enkiprevented him from giving Adapa “life,” a term that takes on new meaning inthe Akkadian literary heirs. In Fragment B, and later, in the NA evidence, wefind Adapa – not the South Wind – at center-stage.52 Accordingly, the lengthycosmological introduction is absent from Fragment B, and in the version repre-sented by Fragment A, it is replaced with a prologue that puts Adapa newly atthe fore. In the process, as exemplified by Fragment B, the roles of the threemain figures in the narrative undergo a major shift, though all with roots intheir original representations. Adapa is recast as victim and is drowned by theSouth Wind. His exchange with Anu inadvertently reveals that Ea, the manipu-lator of the South Wind, was responsible for the attack. And in a dramatictwist, Anu and Ea are newly pitched against one another, with Anu cast (ironi-cally!) as the quasi-āšipu who must reverse Ea’s plot and restore Adapa’s life.In Fragment B, where the incantation is not represented, this play on the pro-cedure of magical ritual may have superseded any practical function the mythserved in other contexts. Thus, while the “magic” of Adapa is grounded in atale that is concerned with the South Wind, it ultimately provided the backdropfor a new narrative that could mirror magical ritual, whether it was actuallyutilized in ritual or not.

51 Cavigneaux (2014: 38) notes that the lengthy introduction of TH reframes the myth in theecology of Mesopotamia and highlights the role of the South Wind, which operates not merelyas “a foil for Adapa.” TH includes several fragmentary references to winds and blowing, sug-gesting that the South Wind was introduced early on. Cavigneaux (2014: 29) considers that theSouth Wind is contrasted with the North Wind, which plays a destructive role: “Le vent dunord joue un rôle destructeur. Sa présence ici doit contraster avec le vent du sud et confirmeindirectement l’importance essentielle du vent du sud dans l’histoire.” It is important to note,however, that there is no preserved reference to the South Wind, and any assumption of thisremains hypothetical.52 Cavigneaux (2014: 39) considers the possibility that the version represented by FragmentB could have omitted both the prelude of TH and the concluding incantation in order to focuson the hero and his adventure. See also Milstein (2015) for a more extensive expression of thisline of thought.

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