From Cradle to Grave: A Lifespan Perspective on the Middle East
Once upon a time, the Middle
East was the Cradle of Civilization, the birthplace of the ancient world. Here
the famous Tigris and Euphrates Rivers ran unencumbered to the sea, flooding
the land with fertility, abundance, and grace. Here were the first large scale
irrigation projects that made possible a new complexity among humans, the first
cities, the first writing and mathematics, the founding of civilization, and
the beginning of our history.
Here, the first ziggurats arose, pyramids of power, ruled by a lugal, (translated
as Big Man) who stood upon the sweat of slaves and the blood of soldiers as
he ruled over the land and its people, building the first walls around our cities.
Here, in the oldest written myth on the planet, the Sumerian goddess Inanna,
who once rocked this cradle of Heaven and Earth, is sent to the Underworld,
while her lover Dumuzi, takes over her throne. Two millennia later, in this
same land, the Babylonian god Marduk murders his the Goddess, Tiamat, then stands
upon her dead body to proclaim a new order of men, a myth that was celebrated
for 1000 years as the rites of spring.
Here, lay the Land of the Jews, who broke the chains of slavery and were guided
by their God to make a covenant with the land of milk and honey.
Here, in this fertile land, was born the prophet of Galilee, whose simple message
of love got him crucified on a cross, and whose few short years of teachings
awakened some of the best and the worst in human behavior.
Here, rose the prophet Muhammad, whose teachings created a new Abrahamic religion,
ostensibly to be one of peace, yet another religion of the book spawned by a
masculine patriarch.
Here, in this land of our collective childhood, grew the era of Empire, with
its organizing principle of domination, conquered by violence, ruled by patriarchy,
a father without a mother. Here awakened the awesome intoxication of power --
the foundation of our world today.
The Mother Goddess had long been expelled from the cradle of civilization, as
we multiplied across the land, and fought our way through 5000 years of sibling
rivalry, through the rise and fall of Empires, expanding and contracting with
the shifting glory of kings and their conquests. We grew up slowly, learned
to read and write, to decipher and exploit nature, yet all that we did was organized
by the principles of Empire until we believed it was the only way to live. So
we built a Christian Empire, an Industrial Empire, an Economic Empire, an Oil
Empire.
Out of this cradle of civilization grew the endgame myth of Armageddon, the
final scream from the wrath of God, the inevitable collapse from the moral bankruptcy
of the patriarchal religions, the first dying gasps of a world that doesn’t
work for all and soon will not work for any, unless we radically change these
insane and outdated belief systems. These are the myths that war brings peace,
that those different from ourselves are expendable, that might makes right,
and that my God is mightier than yours and can smite thee into non-existence
under the banner of righteousness.
The cradle of civilization is looking at its grave. Dams halt the Tigris and
Euphrates rivers, turning 90% of the once fertile delta into sterile desert.
The Sea of Galilee is disappearing along with its fish and wildlife. Israelis
and Palestinians, Lebonese, Syrians, Iranians, and Iraqis, are bombing themselves
and each other, destroying lives, bridges, hospitals, and homes, leaving legacies
of trauma for generations to come. But 5000 years of Empire as an organizing
principle doesn’t go down easy.
Just as the collapse of the World Trade Center could be said to symbolize the
fall of an economic empire that had moved too far away from our common ground,
the destructive fighting in the Middle East symbolizes the beginning of Empire’s
end, the crumbling of the old organizing principle. The destruction we witness
daily is a graphic demonstration of how terribly well these principles no longer
work. We cannot save this land or any of its people if we operate from the empire
mentality that led to this point.
Do we fail to see the meaning of the symbolism while another million refugees
walk the processional dirge across scorched land, mourning their beloved dead?
Can we learn the hard lesson before the brilliant light of bombs casts its shadow
upon our own doorstep? Can we let fall the empire mentality without being crushed
by its tumbling monoliths? Or do we just stand by and watch the conflagration
in shock and awe, preparing for the funeral rites?
I pray that we build a movement so tangible and powerful that this endless perpetuation
of destruction gets caught in the tide of our Great Turning, as David Korten
so elegantly writes. I pray that enough of us awaken to the immense possibility
of our time to pull that tide – and that we live with this passion long
enough to see things turn around. I pray that indeed the old world is dying
but that it can be put to sleep gently, mourned with gratitude and compassion
for how it has served us, so that we can rise from its ashes into what we can
become.
I pray that anywhere peace breaks out, it creates a longing strong enough to
lift us out of our nightmare. I pray that we see a light in the darkness of
our own reflection, and discover the awesome power of grace that embodies both
god and goddess in an eternal rapture of love from which renewal spring. I pray
that what is reborn from that divine reunion is an unfathomable mystery, so
delicious and profound, that the old world pales by comparison, and collapses
from lack of attention. And I pray that our mournful tears of grief are replaced
by laughter at our own folly before it’s too late.
Anodea Judith
8.12.06