Sailing in the Sea of Ma'at

April 4, 2008

The "Tale of the Eloquent Peasant" consists of a series of complaints on the part of a peasant to the Chief Steward Rensi concerning the robbery of his goods by an official. The peasant is allowed to expand on the theme of Ma'at.. which can be translated as "wisdom" or "the right way of doing things." As I was reading these poetic complaints I began to wonder if Ma'at was not a great concept for ordering my own life.

Ma'at speaks of measure and moderation. There should be nothing extreme about the actions of a person following Ma'at:

Do not be ponderous, but do not be frivolous;
Do not be tardy, but do not hurry;
Do not be partial, and do not give in to a whim;
Do not cover your face against one whom you know;
Do not blind your sight against one whom you have seen... [43]

This sense of living "in the middle" calls to mind Aristotle's Nichomachean Ethics, with its endorsement of the golden mean. Moderation also plays a key role in Proverbs and biblical wisdom literature, so this aspect of Ma'at connects to a long-lasting wisdom tradition that is eminently livable. There are no ethical acrobatics of leaving behind everything to follow a lord.

Many of the complaints of the eloquent peasant center on injustice:

If law is subverted and integrity destroyed,
There is no poor man who will be able to live,
For he will be cheated, and Ma'at will not support him. [40]

Ma'at cannot be interpreted as some private good. The peasant is dependent upon the Ma'at of those who are in power. If those above him fail at Ma'at then his own virtue will count for little. I find this public face of Egyptian wisdom literature off-putting. I prefer a form of virtue such as that of the Stoics which allows for happiness to be maintained no matter what everyone else does. But Ma'at does not go there. Virtue only works, it would seem, in a virtuous system.. which may be a more realistic way of looking at the issue.

My favorite description of Ma'at is the following extended boat metaphor:

If you descend to the Lake of Ma'at,
You will sail thereon in the breeze.
The fabric of your sail will not be torn,
Nor will your boat be driven ashore.
There will be no damage to your mast,
Nor will your yards be broken.
You will not founder when you come to land,
Nor will the waves bear you away. [29]

I find it strangely calming to think about descending into the Lake of Ma'at. It is a calm Lake that allows for smoothed experience and ease of landing.. no breakage to the mast or yards. This is not exactly the fiery vision of a prophet, but it is a prescription for inner peace and a way of life that is actually possible for a human being.

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The Panic of Sinuhe

April 2, 2008

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge turns on an oddly unmotivated act. The mariner relates how "...With my cross-bow/ I shot the albatross." There is no psychologizing of the action or attempt to make sense of it. It is a simple act narrated simply.. and because of that it becomes a mysterious and unfathomable.

The ancient Egyptian "Tale of Sinuhe" (ca. 1900 BC) has a similar moment when Sinuhe narrates his panic at the report of the death of the king:

My senses were disturbed, my arms spread out, and trembling came over every part (of me). I took myself off by bounds (?) to find for myself a place of concealment. I placed myself between two shrubs... I went south. [56]

This panicked flight sets up the story.. which includes a description of his time in "Upper Retenu" (some part of the Levant) and his subsequent return to Egypt. But for an event that has such importance, the flight is poorly explained. When Sinuhe is given a chance within the narrative to explain his actions he says: "I do not know what brought me to this land. It was like the plan of a God." At several points in the tale he uses constructions like this that make him an innocent led on by a force beyond his comprehension.

There are a couple of possible reasons to explain this mystery of the flight. The simplest answer would be a reticence to talk about a terrible event—the death of a king and the possibility of suspicion toward Sinuhe. But if the author was trying to avoid this topic, he does a poor job of it since Sinuhe has to explain over and over how he fled for unknown reasons. A more complicated answer would be that there is some level of discomfort with Sinuhe operating as a fully volitional person. The gods and the king are full actors, but Sinuhe is a person who is acted upon.. someone with a passive will.

This passivity is manifest in a more positive light when Sinuhe returns to Egypt and has an audience with the king:

I lost consciousness in his presence. This God addressed me in a friendly way, and I was like a man caught by nightfall. My soul fled and my body shook. My heart was not in my body: I could not tell life from death. [64]

Evidently this is how one was supposed to feel when brought into the presence of the king (who was a God). It is an event that brings about a loss of rationality.. although in this case it only leaves him prostrated helplessly before the king and he does not flee Egypt.

I am curious if these details about the inner life of Sinuhe can be generalized out to arrive at a folk psychology of ancient Egypt. A culture that imagines the makeup of human beings so differently, dividing human beings into body, heart, shadow, ba, the ka, and the name, must be experience the world in a vastly different way.