The Good and Evil Serpent (15 page)

Figure 18
. Snake Stickpin, Vienna 1830. Gold with emerald, rubies, and a pearl. The person who made this jewelry and the one who wore it took the serpent to symbolize something good, such as beauty. It is clear that the serpent was admired, and not only in antiquity. This photograph is from a replica made at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. JHC Collection

It is now becoming clear that the ancients, the great artists, and even many people today, think of the snake as a symbol of many diverse ideas, concepts, and feelings. Humans in their early history, and perhaps in prehistory especially, did not categorize the snake, as do most westerners and Americans today, as a symbol of horror and fear. They eventually observed what we now know: snakes kill only out of hunger or fear.
¹¹⁴
Virtually no snake is interested in eating us, and we are the reason the snake is afraid.

We have become aware of how physiology lies behind symbology; as the ancients carefully studied the physical characteristics of snakes, they developed and evolved ophidian symbolic and mythical language in art and writing. As K. Salzle stated in his book on animals and humans, the rational thought of modern humans is in sharp contrast to the intuition of the early humans.
¹¹⁵
They developed not only symbolism but also poetry; their imaginations were more fertile than ours.
¹¹⁶
With these observations of snakes in mind, we can now explore what is available from antiquity to help us comprehend the full meaning of the ophidian symbols so obvious in many places. Surely, such exploration will help us in the exegesis of major, influential texts, especially John 3:14.

ARCHAEOLOGY AND THE SYMBOLISM OF THE SERPENT

Having introduced the subject of serpent iconography and symbology in antiquity, how do we continue? Do we go directly to the ancient texts? Or do we begin with realia (the objects) and iconography?

In the past, scholars began with the texts, often at an early age, in the synagogue, church, or grammar school. The result was that they examined realia and images only later. This textual myopia left its errors. Images were read in light of the biblical text, perceived literally, and the ancient myths were usually misunderstood. We have seen, in detail, how the presupposition that the serpent denotes evil, the demonic, and even Satan is deaf to the voice of the images. As O. Keel points out in his book on the right of the pictures to be seen, from 1847 to the present experts have tended to study ancient iconography in light of what was known about Mithra, Gilgamesh, Enkidu, Tammuz, and others.
¹
Now, we must pause, look long and sensitively at a work of art (or artifact), and ponder such questions as the following: What did ancient authors imagine? What did they intend to encapsulate in imagery? How did their culture help them choose the details and the constellation of images? How did those who used and saw the image add to the alleged intended meaning?

How do we comprehend the subtleties of the language of iconography and symbology? One might agree with Coleridge that the creative imagination is “a repetition in the finite mind of the eternal act of creation in the infinite I Am.”
²
One might want to ponder the point, yet most readers would agree that, without informed imagination, images remain mute. To help them speak to us today we need to seek to dwell in their own time (even if they appear timeless) and approach with sensitivity the one who fashioned them.

It has been claimed that “we are ultimately responsible [for] and alone with the anxiety of structuring meaning in a world that has no inherent meaning.”
³
While such reflections have some import and clarify the need for assigning meaning to a reality that does not come with labels and values, I tend to disagree with the basic thought. I am rather convinced that we are born into a world of meaning. We grow up in a linguistic culture. It comes to us, daily, with images and symbols that have been interpreted and invested with meaning. We inherit over three thousand years of icono-graphical explorations into our universe. It is our task, now, to explore what meaning was “poured into” what we have inherited or rediscovered.

As E. Panofsky pointed out, we need to apprehend form, subject matter, meaning, and psychological nuances, and familiarize ourselves with the times, customs, and culture in which realia were fashioned and in which they were given (sometimes different) meanings. A warning by Panofsky bears highlighting: “It is just as impossible for us to give a correct
icono-graphical analysis
by indiscriminately applying our literary knowledge to the motifs, as it is for us to give a correct
pre-iconographical description
by indiscriminately applying our practical experience to the forms.”
⁴
In my own continued study, what I now perceive to be “indiscriminate” will be removed. With these reflections, and caveats, let us proceed with a presentation and appreciation of ancient ophidian images. (Due to the thousands I have collected, the selection must be focused.)

PREHISTORIC FINDS

The earliest cave art, especially at Lascaux (ante 20,000
BCE
), represents numerous animals.
⁵
Most notable are the images of bison and early deer, cows, and horses; no animal depicted is clearly a serpent.
⁶
This may be explained by the fact that the serpent is cold-blooded and would not have been present in the European Ice Age. The earliest known image that could be a serpent appears to have been found in a cave at La Baume-Latrone, France. It has been dated somewhere between 40,000 and 26,000
BCE
. Imagination is required to obtain a grasp of its form and meaning. The art is a line drawing.
⁷
A large serpent seems evident; the fangs and forked tongue are discernible. It appears that the serpent is depicted to evoke thoughts about a woman. The contrast is striking: the serpent seems threatening, the woman inviting. Perhaps B. Johnson is correct to imagine that we are faced with “a visual pun. The pun continues from the serpent as woman to the serpent as goddess. The play of images is enlivened by the mammoths that literally and figuratively support the snake-woman-deity. She is often called Our Lady of the Mammoths.”
⁸

A cave found in 1970 at the southern tip of Italy at Porto Badisco nel Salento, between Brindisi and Lecce, boasts of paintings that are dated by carbon analysis (C-14) to about 39,000
BCE
. Some specialists are convinced that the drawings in this cave are the most important and numerous examples of post-Paleolithic art. There are no clear depictions of a serpent, but there are lines and drawings that are serpentine forms (“serpentiformi e zig-zig”).
⁹
I am convinced that someone, long ago, intended to depict serpents. One end of the drawing is wider and the other elongated; that could indicate a head and tail. All images are impressionistic depictions of human life in an agricultural setting. In all, there appear to be twenty-four serpentine drawings.
¹⁰
It is far from clear what these drawings mean; perhaps the one who made them tried to illustrate that the meaning of life includes appreciation of serpents.

ARCHAEOLOGICAL DISCOVERIES IN ANCIENT PALESTINE

Numerous and significant studies have been written on serpent symbolism in Egypt,
¹¹
Babylonia,
¹²
Greece,
¹³
and Rome.
¹⁴
As of the present, no survey has been published of serpent symbolism in ancient Palestine from Dan to Beer-sheba with special focus on controlled archaeological excavations.
¹⁵
The purpose of this chapter is to fill this gap, thus providing objective foundations for discerning what the ancients might have intended when they made, or used, images of serpents.

Where has serpent iconography been found in ancient Palestine from Dan to Beer-sheba, in the centuries before the Byzantine Period when there was a major cultural change and a shift in the perception of the serpent? In 1943, J. B. Pritchard, thinking of goddesses depicted with serpents, listed only four examples of serpent iconography: two were from Beth Shan, one from Tell Beit Mirsim, and one from Shechem.
¹⁶
Today the evidence of serpent iconography in ancient Palestine is far more extensive, even when we presently focus only on the obvious, or relatively certain, examples. The following summary is selective; for a detailed examination see my
Serpent Iconography and the Archaeology of the Land from Dan to Beersheba
(in press).

For convenience, here is a synopsis of the ages and periods used in the following discussion:
¹⁷

Munhata

The earliest evidence of serpent iconography has been found at Munhata and antedates 4000
BCE
. Munhata is situated about 13 kilometers south of the Sea of Galilee (Kinneret Yam) in the Jordan Rift Valley. It is about equidistant between Beth Shan in the south and the Sea of Galilee in the north. Six occupation levels have been discerned, beginning with Levels 6 to 3B that date from the Pre-Pottery Neolithic B culture (i.e., c. 8300–5500
BCE
, a culture also found in Jericho).
¹⁹
Near the end of the fourth millennium
BCE
, Munhata was deserted. It lay abandoned until recent times.

Level 2A, the Wadi Rabbah Stage, probably dates to Pottery-Neolithic A or 4800–4000
BCE
and reflects the Halafian culture of Syria. Excavators found two serpent objects in this level.
²⁰
Each is a plastic decoration; that is, before firing, an image of a serpent in clay strips was fastened to the outer surface of a vessel. One curled serpent was attached to the side of a hole-mouth pithos. Its body is curled around, with the tail on top of the body.
²¹
The serpent’s head reaches over the top of the rim of the pithos, and the mouth seems to be open.
²²
I do not think the serpent is seeking water—it is more likely placed on the vessel to bless or guard the contents. That interpretation fits well with what we found about the widespread meaning of the serpent, including its meaning in this area of the world.

Ein Samiya

A cemetery covering about 3 kilometers is located near Ramallah on the border of the Samaritan mountain range and the Jordan Rift Valley. It is between Bethel and Shiloh and west of Wadi ed-Daliyeh. The graves date to the period from the Early Bronze Age to the Byzantine Period.