In which Gilgamesh tries to talk his way into Heaven
Gilgamesh's Confession
à la Saint Augustine
Dear Enkidu,
As I look back at my time on earth and my friendship with you, I have many joys and many tears. “Righteousness exalts a nation,” yet I did not exhibit this in my own kingdom. He who lifts up rulers has said, “Thou shalt not kill,” yet I lived as though my strength and exalted earthly position gave me a right to live exactly as I pleased. All we like sheep have gone astray. Never on earth did I consider the truth that he who desires wisdom should ask God and seek his good will first in all things.
Nor, in my ignorance, did I know the true God, the one in whom is no shadow of turning. Instead, I believed that the spiritual beings who brought me into being were gods, just as they claimed. Although I know that men are liars, as Utnapishtim stated in my hearing one time, I never considered that the gods might be liars as well. It was only after I was in the underground hall of death that I learned the truth of so many things. But long was I there before the truth was grasped and understood by me. Like a schoolmaster, my chains confined me and pointed the way to the one my heart yearned for, that I thought I had found in you. At last, there in Hades, I discovered the friend who sticks closer than a brother. You are my friend and my brother, dear Enkidu, but Jesus is the eternal friend by whom we live and move and have our being.
I languished in the pit wishing only to be free and roam the earth once more with the power that I had while I was living on the earth. Darkness often descended on me and my ignorance was profound. Among the exhausted dead raged rampant misery and fear until came the day that One ascended into Hell fresh from being murdered. He had been killed, though he was innocent, in a political power play of his day. He came and he preached.
Oh, to hear his words, Enkidu! Like fire, like power, like thrusting a sword between my soul and my spirit, giving me wisdom with each syllable. He refuted my life instantly as he spoke of the violent thoughts and actions we on earth had participated in, separating us further and further from our Creator.
He said he was God’s Son. Of course, I was immediately interested. Am I not god’s son as well? I thought. I listened intently, expecting to hear words of vanquish and supremacy and to see the proud stride that men who rule assume. But he was humble and he healed as he talked to us. My stubborn pride melted before his kindness and he healed my heart.
How surprised I was when he called Utnapishtim to speak alongside him. Utnapishtim, whom Jesus called, “Noah,” talked to a large crowd of people he had known on earth who had died in the great flood which he survived. He spoke of how he had warned them and they had not listened, and urged them to listen now. He spoke of his friendship with Jesus, saying, “He no longer calls us servants, but friends.” My heart leapt to respond and I offered to make a great sacrifice as we did to the gods when I sent your body down the Euphrates. I wanted to offer this sacrifice for the God who said, “Let there be light,” but Noah said this was not what God wanted. He said, “Yahweh desires mercy, not sacrifice.”
I assure you that their words were the beginning of a turning point for me, Enkidu. With tears I remember the advice that the sage woman, Shiduri, shouted to me from the top of the tavern where I had caused her to flee. She told me to treat others well and give pleasure to my wife in my embrace. How much fear and pain I had caused as I entered into the embrace of other men’s wives. If only I could take back my rash actions! You stopped me, my dearest friend, when you attacked me that day so long ago as I sought to ravish a new bride, once again. It is a kindness when a brother strikes brother for righteousness’ sake. Thank you. I do not now turn my cheek away from discipline.
I long for the day when you and I can be reunited in those dwelling places on high. I sought for you in the crowds who gathered as Jesus preached to all of us from ancient days yet I did not see you. Some ardent, repentant souls left Hades at that time, ascending in Jesus’ train, and I know you were among them, yet I was not yet ready to go forth. I confess that stubborn and slow has always been my way when it came to change. How brash I was on earth, as you well know. Now I have changed, my true friend. As you read my words, I hope your heart yearns for me as deeply as mine does for you, that I might join you in heavenly places. Will you please tell Jesus for me that if he comes back through Hades, I will gladly follow him this time?
Please assure the most high God, Yahweh, who cannot be contained even by the highest heavens, that I have repented and have changed my ways. I see how wrong I was to kill his servant Humbaba, who lived in the sacred Cedar Forest, where entrance was forbidden. Who was I, unworthy man, to interfere with his servant’s defense of animals and the earth? I know how you have loved animals since the beginning, Enkidu, and you were right to do so. As the wise and illustrious Solomon has said in his writings: a good man is kind to his animals.
I hope you can see my sincere love for you and my earnest desire to further my relationship with all those who have come to the truth. I marvel at the glorious riches of God’s mystery which eluded me for so long. And from the depth of my heart I cry out to the only God our Savior. May all mankind see his glory, majesty, power and authority, through Jesus Christ our Lord, before all ages, now and forevermore.
I confess, Enkidu, to my many sins and faults. Like the angels that God has confined in chains, I am deserving of his judgments. He has said that in repentance and rest is our salvation. In the past, I rejected his mercies without thought, without care. But I have seen the error of my way and I appeal to you, my friend from days of yore, to pass on my fervent petition for eternal restoration, so that I might emerge, once more, to see the stars and to ascend into that blessed resting place of the righteous. May God show mercy on my soul.
Your eternal and repentant friend,
King Gilgamesh
As I look back at my time on earth and my friendship with you, I have many joys and many tears. “Righteousness exalts a nation,” yet I did not exhibit this in my own kingdom. He who lifts up rulers has said, “Thou shalt not kill,” yet I lived as though my strength and exalted earthly position gave me a right to live exactly as I pleased. All we like sheep have gone astray. Never on earth did I consider the truth that he who desires wisdom should ask God and seek his good will first in all things.
Nor, in my ignorance, did I know the true God, the one in whom is no shadow of turning. Instead, I believed that the spiritual beings who brought me into being were gods, just as they claimed. Although I know that men are liars, as Utnapishtim stated in my hearing one time, I never considered that the gods might be liars as well. It was only after I was in the underground hall of death that I learned the truth of so many things. But long was I there before the truth was grasped and understood by me. Like a schoolmaster, my chains confined me and pointed the way to the one my heart yearned for, that I thought I had found in you. At last, there in Hades, I discovered the friend who sticks closer than a brother. You are my friend and my brother, dear Enkidu, but Jesus is the eternal friend by whom we live and move and have our being.
I languished in the pit wishing only to be free and roam the earth once more with the power that I had while I was living on the earth. Darkness often descended on me and my ignorance was profound. Among the exhausted dead raged rampant misery and fear until came the day that One ascended into Hell fresh from being murdered. He had been killed, though he was innocent, in a political power play of his day. He came and he preached.
Oh, to hear his words, Enkidu! Like fire, like power, like thrusting a sword between my soul and my spirit, giving me wisdom with each syllable. He refuted my life instantly as he spoke of the violent thoughts and actions we on earth had participated in, separating us further and further from our Creator.
He said he was God’s Son. Of course, I was immediately interested. Am I not god’s son as well? I thought. I listened intently, expecting to hear words of vanquish and supremacy and to see the proud stride that men who rule assume. But he was humble and he healed as he talked to us. My stubborn pride melted before his kindness and he healed my heart.
How surprised I was when he called Utnapishtim to speak alongside him. Utnapishtim, whom Jesus called, “Noah,” talked to a large crowd of people he had known on earth who had died in the great flood which he survived. He spoke of how he had warned them and they had not listened, and urged them to listen now. He spoke of his friendship with Jesus, saying, “He no longer calls us servants, but friends.” My heart leapt to respond and I offered to make a great sacrifice as we did to the gods when I sent your body down the Euphrates. I wanted to offer this sacrifice for the God who said, “Let there be light,” but Noah said this was not what God wanted. He said, “Yahweh desires mercy, not sacrifice.”
I assure you that their words were the beginning of a turning point for me, Enkidu. With tears I remember the advice that the sage woman, Shiduri, shouted to me from the top of the tavern where I had caused her to flee. She told me to treat others well and give pleasure to my wife in my embrace. How much fear and pain I had caused as I entered into the embrace of other men’s wives. If only I could take back my rash actions! You stopped me, my dearest friend, when you attacked me that day so long ago as I sought to ravish a new bride, once again. It is a kindness when a brother strikes brother for righteousness’ sake. Thank you. I do not now turn my cheek away from discipline.
I long for the day when you and I can be reunited in those dwelling places on high. I sought for you in the crowds who gathered as Jesus preached to all of us from ancient days yet I did not see you. Some ardent, repentant souls left Hades at that time, ascending in Jesus’ train, and I know you were among them, yet I was not yet ready to go forth. I confess that stubborn and slow has always been my way when it came to change. How brash I was on earth, as you well know. Now I have changed, my true friend. As you read my words, I hope your heart yearns for me as deeply as mine does for you, that I might join you in heavenly places. Will you please tell Jesus for me that if he comes back through Hades, I will gladly follow him this time?
Please assure the most high God, Yahweh, who cannot be contained even by the highest heavens, that I have repented and have changed my ways. I see how wrong I was to kill his servant Humbaba, who lived in the sacred Cedar Forest, where entrance was forbidden. Who was I, unworthy man, to interfere with his servant’s defense of animals and the earth? I know how you have loved animals since the beginning, Enkidu, and you were right to do so. As the wise and illustrious Solomon has said in his writings: a good man is kind to his animals.
I hope you can see my sincere love for you and my earnest desire to further my relationship with all those who have come to the truth. I marvel at the glorious riches of God’s mystery which eluded me for so long. And from the depth of my heart I cry out to the only God our Savior. May all mankind see his glory, majesty, power and authority, through Jesus Christ our Lord, before all ages, now and forevermore.
I confess, Enkidu, to my many sins and faults. Like the angels that God has confined in chains, I am deserving of his judgments. He has said that in repentance and rest is our salvation. In the past, I rejected his mercies without thought, without care. But I have seen the error of my way and I appeal to you, my friend from days of yore, to pass on my fervent petition for eternal restoration, so that I might emerge, once more, to see the stars and to ascend into that blessed resting place of the righteous. May God show mercy on my soul.
Your eternal and repentant friend,
King Gilgamesh