RE: Let The Creatard Shitting of Bricks Begineth
April 20, 2015 at 1:53 pm
(This post was last modified: April 20, 2015 at 2:08 pm by Hatshepsut.)
Regarding the thread title: With the onset of degenerative anorectal problems incident to age, I feel as if I'm shitting bricks without even creating anything! I'll never look at a chair or toilet seat the same way again.
The Egyptian affinities to Genesis' creation account have always fascinated me. Among the Ogdoad or "Eight gods" present before material creation is Nun, whose name means "infinite flood" taken quite literally. Then an air bubble supported by Shu ("dry air") with assistance from his ram-headed Heh deities comes into being, with the Nefertum or first lotus flower emerging on the first island of dry land amid the flood-prone Nile. This scheme is illustrated by a vignette in the Papyrus of Nestanebtisheru among other places. Of Nun, the Book of the Dead says
"I am the great god who evolved by himself. Who is he? He is Nun, the father of the gods. In other words, he is Re" (Spell 17).
Re is of course the sun god, who originally lived among and ruled over human beings. In the Heavenly Cow narrative, once the humans dissed him and Hathor's bloody mission to slay them at Re's behest turned fiasco, Re separated himself from the world, climbing into his sky boat instead. The sky is blue because it is an ocean surface above us. And science, provided you mean the scientific state of the art at the time of ancient Egypt, did in fact support this superstructure of myth.
They wouldn't have been worried about renpet heh heh "millions and millions of years" at any rate. Or evolution, when their gods evolve alongside the kheper beetles emerging from a ball of dung in the morning. The later Elohist creation in Genesis 1 merely had to solve the problems of demoting the celestial bodies and shortening things down to a 7-day shabbat cycle. It's uncertain that evolution troubled this product either, given that King James' panel mistranslated words meaning "every kind" to read "after their kind."
The only thing the Creatards Young and Old have done amiss is to transplant this lovely Nefertum from its fertile Nile silt to the less forgiving soil of Madalyn O'Hair's garden. Ancient stories just don't grow as well today.
The Egyptian affinities to Genesis' creation account have always fascinated me. Among the Ogdoad or "Eight gods" present before material creation is Nun, whose name means "infinite flood" taken quite literally. Then an air bubble supported by Shu ("dry air") with assistance from his ram-headed Heh deities comes into being, with the Nefertum or first lotus flower emerging on the first island of dry land amid the flood-prone Nile. This scheme is illustrated by a vignette in the Papyrus of Nestanebtisheru among other places. Of Nun, the Book of the Dead says
"I am the great god who evolved by himself. Who is he? He is Nun, the father of the gods. In other words, he is Re" (Spell 17).
Re is of course the sun god, who originally lived among and ruled over human beings. In the Heavenly Cow narrative, once the humans dissed him and Hathor's bloody mission to slay them at Re's behest turned fiasco, Re separated himself from the world, climbing into his sky boat instead. The sky is blue because it is an ocean surface above us. And science, provided you mean the scientific state of the art at the time of ancient Egypt, did in fact support this superstructure of myth.
They wouldn't have been worried about renpet heh heh "millions and millions of years" at any rate. Or evolution, when their gods evolve alongside the kheper beetles emerging from a ball of dung in the morning. The later Elohist creation in Genesis 1 merely had to solve the problems of demoting the celestial bodies and shortening things down to a 7-day shabbat cycle. It's uncertain that evolution troubled this product either, given that King James' panel mistranslated words meaning "every kind" to read "after their kind."
The only thing the Creatards Young and Old have done amiss is to transplant this lovely Nefertum from its fertile Nile silt to the less forgiving soil of Madalyn O'Hair's garden. Ancient stories just don't grow as well today.
