The Religion of Babylonia and Assyria — A Reader’s Guide

Etymological Grounding of the Pantheon

Pinches repeatedly anchors his discussion in the linguistic roots of deity names. He asserts that with few exceptions, the names of gods such as Merodach, Nergal, and Sin derive from the non-Semitic Sumero-Akkadian language. This etymological approach is not merely taxonomic; it shapes his argument that the religion began with that earlier race. For the sun-god Šamaš, he lists multiple non-Semitic names—Gišnu, Ma-banda-anna, U-ê, Mitra—and notes that the god sometimes bears the names of his attendants Kittu and Mêšaru, “Truth” and “Righteousness.” The effect is a pantheon that feels lexically layered, each name a clue to cultic function or syncretic borrowing.

The Tammuz Narrative as Mythological Core

The treatment of Tammuz and Ištar occupies a pivotal section, where Pinches shifts from cataloguing names to recounting myth. He dates the Tammuz myth to tablets from about 3500 B.C. and links it to the figure of Daonus in Berosus. The classic story—of unnatural intercourse, transformation into a tree, the birth of Adonis, and the dispute between Aphrodite and Persephone—is summarized in a single dense paragraph. Pinches then notes that nothing of this legend has survived in Babylonian sources except the incident of Tammuz dwelling in Hades, yet he speculates that the whole story likely existed in Babylonia and spread to Phoenicia and Greece. This section is the most narratively driven in the excerpts, with direct quotations from lamentations: “He has gone, he has gone to the bosom of the earth.” The pace slows, allowing the reader to dwell on ritual mourning and the imagery of the shepherd who nourishes and slays.

Pace and the Handling of Evidence

Pinches alternates between swift historical summary and patient philological exposition. The opening chapter covers millennia in a few paragraphs, yet when discussing the sun-god’s names he pauses to list variants and cite textual sources. The Tammuz section is the most leisurely, incorporating comparative mythology and direct quotation. This variation in pace reflects the author’s dual role as historian and linguist. He is careful to limit inference: after recounting the Greek Adonis story, he states plainly that “nothing has come down to us as yet concerning this legend except the incident of his dwelling in Hades.” Such restraint contrasts with the speculative leap that follows—that the whole story probably existed in Babylonia. Readers should note where Pinches shifts from evidence to conjecture, especially in passages linking Mesopotamian and classical myths.

Pinches’s study rewards attention to his handling of sources: he moves from broad chronology to narrow etymology, then to mythic narrative, each shift altering the reader’s engagement. The work is best approached as a document of early 20th-century Assyriology, where linguistic analysis and comparative mythology sit side by side. Pay particular attention to the footnotes and transliterations, which reveal the textual basis for his claims.

The rain kept me indoors with The Religion of Babylonia and Assyria, tracing Pinches’ patient etymologies until my eyes blurred. Somewhere between Ishtar’s names and the slow narrative of temple rites, I set it down. My hand drifted to a slim volume nearby, The Buddha's Path of Virtue: A Translation of the Dhammapada — Background and Themes, and the afternoon softened into quieter syllables.